


Make It Loud

by brooklinegirl



Series: Assholes in Love [5]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-08 14:44:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklinegirl/pseuds/brooklinegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How two assholes in love start a family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make It Loud

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Thank you so much to lilac_one for being my pregnancy beta on this! 
> 
> Thank you to mrsronweasley for coming up with the idea for this, for pushing me to write it, and for an excellent beta job in extremely short order. You are amazing and you are constantly there with an idea for this particular universe. I love you a LOT. 
> 
> Thank you to shiningartifact for such a wonderful, detailed beta job, for taking it seriously and making this about a million times better than it would otherwise have been, and for being my constant cheerleader. ♥
> 
> And OH RIGHT. Hey, mrsronweasley, here's my response to [your request from the time-stamp meme](http://brooklinegirl.livejournal.com/856643.html?thread=20548163#t20548163)
> 
>   **Bonus Materials**
> 
> Fanart:
> 
> [Three slightly spoilery pieces](http://brooklinegirl.livejournal.com/864034.html) by lessthan3is2
> 
>  **Fanmixes:**
> 
> [The Way I Like You Best](http://brooklinegirl.livejournal.com/862642.html) by morganya
> 
> [These Are the Days ](http://brooklinegirl.livejournal.com/863055.html) by exoticway

Jamia told Frank, between shots of tequila, that she was thinking of going off the pill. "What do you think?"

Mostly he was thinking he really didn't fucking want to go back to condoms, what the fuck. 

Apparently he wasn’t as stealth about it as he’d thought, because she rolled her eyes and said, "Jesus, Frank, you can still come inside me, okay?"

"Okay," he said slowly, because, sure, okay, but - "But -"

She rolled her eyes again and shoved a shot across the table at him. "Baby," she said.

"Yeah?" he responded.

"No." She blew her bangs out of her eyes as he downed the shot. "I'm talking about _having_ a baby."

Frank choked on his tequila. 

Jamia drummed her fingers on the table, watching him as he struggled to breathe around the burning in his throat. "That went up my _nose_ ," he finally managed to get out, his voice hoarse. 

"What do you think?" she said, downing her shot. "Do you want to try?"

He stared at her, wide-eyed. Now that the almost-dying-from-tequila-in-his-lungs had cleared, his brain was offline. "I -" _Yes_. "I don't even -" _Yes_. "Fuck, J, we haven't even talked about it."

She snorted. "You talk about it all the time."

"I do not." Frank stuck his finger in the empty shot glass, running it around the bottom and then licking the tequila off of it. He didn't know what the fuck she was talking about. A _baby_ , Jesus fuck.

"You talk about other peoples' babies whenever we go to the grocery store." Jamia had that look on her face, like she was laughing at him a little on the inside. He hated that look.

"Because those people are doing it wrong. They shouldn't let just anybody be parents. This is why kids are so fucked up." Frank sat back and frowned. He didn't talk about _babies_ , he talked about how people didn't know how to raise kids. 

"You're right," Jamia said.

"Damn right I am." Frank leaned forward, looking for the waitress. They needed more alcohol. 

"Other people suck at it." Jamia was still leaning back in her chair, and maybe still laughing at him.

"They do." Frank spotted the waitress across the room, heading in their direction, thank fuck.

"We'd be awesome at it," Jamia said.

"We totally fucking would. Two PBRs." Frank looked over at Jamia. "You want another shot?"

"Fuck yes," Jamia said.

"Two more shots," Frank said, and the waitress headed away.

"So let's do it." Jamia was just watching him, steadily. She had her hair pulled back in two messy ponytails, and her cheeks were a little red, the way they always got when she had tequila. 

"Yeah," Frank said softly. "I - you're serious." He pushed his hair back out of his face. He couldn't _think_.

She nodded. 

"Do you -" He paused, running his hand over his face, trying to get his brain working again. "Does this mean we should talk about, I don't know." He cleared his throat. Jamia was looking at him funny. "Like, getting married, or something?"

Jamia gave him a long look before shrugging. "Fuck that," she said. "I'm not talking about that. This is you and me, right?" 

"Oh," said Frank. “Right.” Right. This was _them_. They didn't need to be married to make a baby together. "I love you." 

She grinned. "I love you, too. So. You want to do this?"

"When?" Frank said. Fuck. They would be such awesome parents. Their kids would be so _cool_. "Now?" He made a move to get up, and Jamia laughed, bright and loud.

"I think we can finish our drinks," she said, as the waitress swooped in and left their beers and shots on the table. "And I'm still on the pill right at the very moment, so, you know, we might have to wait a while."

"Practice," Frank said, picking up his shot and holding it out to her. "Makes perfect."

They clinked shot glasses, but Frank paused, watching Jamia throw her head back, her throat working as she swallowed the shot, and she was so fucking stunning, Frank couldn't breathe for a second. He swallowed his own shot, finally, and she was grinning at him as she slid her glass across the table to cozy up against his. "We're doing this," she said.

"Hell yeah, we are," he said. His stomach turned over as he said it, because fuck, fuck, were they doing this? They were doing this. He ran one hand through his hair, thinking about it. Everything would change, but - it would still be him, and Jamia, and he bet she'd make some gorgeous fucking babies. He wanted this. He _wanted_ this. "C'mon," he said abruptly, reaching for her hand. 

"What about the beers?" she protested, but she let him pull her up from the chair.

"Fuck the beers," he said, and pushed her in front of him, throwing a handful of bills on the table. 

She was _actually_ laughing at him as he followed her out the door, but he really could not fucking care less.

***

Her hot mouth around his dick was the greatest thing in his life, second only to her cunt.

The first time they fucked after she had thrown her pills away, when it wasn't safe - not safe on _purpose_ , oh man - Jamia got him hard with her mouth, pushing him onto his back on the bed and getting his jeans open, sucking him in before he could even take a breath.

She blew him wet and messy, not finding a rhythm, just running her mouth up and down his dick; fucking leisurely, like this was a lazy Sunday drive or something. He groaned, sinking his fingers into her hair to hold on as she took him down. She made a contented noise in her throat as she went down, down, and swallowed, and he felt _pinned_ there by her mouth, his breath coming in forced gasps as his dick throbbed.

She slid up and off just as slow and easy, and curses tumbled out of his mouth as she did so. "Fuck, Jesus God, Jamia, I fucking want to just - you -" 

She blinked up at him lazily, running her mouth down the side of his dick, her hand wrapped around the base. He was so fucking hard, his dick standing up over his stomach, dark and wet. He wanted - he just needed -

"Oh God," he groaned, fumbling for her shoulder, pushing her back and off. "I need to fuck you," he said urgently. "I need to fucking put it in you." 

She was giggling, a little, and he knew he must look and sound absolutely ridiculous, as he shoved his jeans all the way down and off, hauled his shirt off over his head. His dick was standing out so hard and he was panting like he'd just run a fucking marathon. 

Jamia pushed herself over onto her back on the bed, pulling her dress up and her panties down, and Jesus Christ, she looked obscene lying there, her knees spread and her pussy so wet he could _see_ it. "Do it," she demanded, her voice just a little breathless, but the color was high in her cheeks. "Fuck, Frank, come on, I -"

That was when he pushed himself forward, his hand around his dick, and he was about to press it up against her when it hit him again, what they were about to do. That this was more than just sex, more than any sex he'd ever had in his life. This was about them doing this: fucking in order to get her pregnant. Jesus fucking _Christ_. His dick gave this _throb_ in his hand, a visible twitch as the whole idea hit him hard, and he couldn't help the broken groan he gave as he pressed his dick up against Jamia, and slid inside.

Her knees came up around his hips right as he bottomed out inside her, and they both gasped at the same time, then both laughed. He snorted at how ridiculous they both were at the same time as he pulled back and started really fucking her. 

And fuck yeah, God yeah, he wanted to be doing this all the time, he wanted to be doing this forever. Jamia was panting hard, pressing the side of her face against the pillow, her eyes shut tight, her breaths broken up by these tiny, desperate moans that she let out like she didn't even know she was doing it, like she couldn't stop if she tried.

"I -" Frank was holding himself up, braced over Jamia, and he felt strong and sure and fucking _amazing_. "I want to fuck you forever," he said, as she hitched her soft thighs higher up around his hips. "Jesus Christ, J, I want - I want to -"

"You'd better," she panted out, tightening up around him.

So good, fuck, it was so _good_. He cried out something long and wordless, and kept fucking her, driving in deep, as she lifted her hips up. He dropped down on his elbows and held his weight on one arm as he slid the other one under her, pushing her hips up further. "Oh fuck, oh _yeah_ , that's - that's -" The angle was amazing, the sex was amazing, he felt like he was _one with his dick_. It felt like his entire life had narrowed to the slide of him inside of her, to how hot and wet she was, to the sounds she was making, to how hard she was clenching around his dick, like she meant to hold him to it, keep him there, fucking her forever.

"God," she was saying, brokenly, over and over. "God, fuck, Frank, fucking - _Frank_ -" and then she was shaking and coming around him. He could feel it happening, from the inside, and her fingernails were digging into his biceps, into his back. He wanted to come so bad he could feel it in his _eyeballs_.

"J," he managed, bracing himself, his elbow slipping on the sheets a little, and pulling out just enough to shove back inside her. She moaned, her eyes shut, her head flung back, her breasts flushed and damp with sweat - fuck, they were both soaked with it. "J," he said again, desperately, and she blinked her eyes open, looked up at him. Her pupils were blown, wide and hot. "I -" he managed, then moaned as she lifted her hips up against him. "I'm - there's - Jamia, fuck, I'm -"

“Yeah,” she gasped. “ _Yeah_. Do it.”

"Oh God, fuck, now, fucking - _now_ -" and he drove inside of her, shaking so hard he felt like he was going to fall to pieces. When he came, his brain stopped working and everything fell away from him. He was grinding inside her, his dick still twitching, the orgasm going on, and on, and _on_. 

When he came back to himself, finally, he was limp and sweaty on top of her, his dick still in her, slowly going soft. "Sorry," he said, starting to shift.

"Wait," she said softly, one hand on his ass, holding him there, holding him inside her. "Just for a second."

He stayed there, his toes tingling, his cheek pressed against hers as they both caught their breath. His dick finally slipped out, and they both made a noise, before Frank moved enough to settle beside her.

"Do you think -" he said, after a while. His hand was tracing designs on her belly, the skin soft and pale, her body rising and falling with her breath.

"Nah," she said. "It's too soon, probably." But she wasn't making any complaints about the fact that she was still lying in the wet spot, and when he pushed himself up on one arm, she tugged him back down. "Just - let's hang out, for a few minutes. Okay?"

"Okay." He settled back down beside her. He knew it was probably too soon. He did. He pressed one hand over her warm belly anyway, though, and they both lay there on the bed, up against each other, for a while.

Just in case.

***

It happened pretty quick, in the end - so quick that it made Frank really, really thankful that Jamia had been so vigilant about taking her pills every day. It had only been a couple of months of trying when she came into the living room one night with a really weird look on her face.

(Frank hadn't even been thinking about it. The first week, he'd come home with two ridiculously expensive, state-of-the-art, at-home pregnancy tests and Jamia had just stared at him. 

"It's really probably too soon," she'd said. "I was on the pill for a long time. We're going to have to be patient." Then she’d looked at the tests again. "You bought these? Like. By yourself?"

"Yeah," Frank had said stoutly. "Why? It's no big deal, you know."

Jamia had looked a little impressed. "You're growing as a person.")

But that had been ages ago, and Jamia had gotten her period before they even got a chance to use the tests, and Frank had been forcing himself to just _not think about it_ ever since.

He looked up at her, pausing the game on the TV. "What? Is there a bug? Fuck, hang on, let me get a shoe."

She just stood there, still looking really weird, as he got up and grabbed his sneaker from beside the couch. 

"Where is it?" he asked. "Tell me it's got fewer than a dozen legs."

"It's not a bug," she said, finally, still just _standing_ there. 

"Okay?" Frank let the hand wielding the bug-killing sneaker fall loosely to his side. "So, what, then?"

"It's -" Jamia paused, then closed her mouth, then opened it again, but didn't say anything.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Frank said impatiently. "What the hell is it?"

She snapped back into herself, shaking her head and glaring at him. "Jesus, dickbag, give me a second, okay?" She thrust something at him, and he took it without thinking. 

It was a plastic stick, and it said PREGNANT in big digital letters at one end. Frank stared at it for a second. "Is this _yours_?"

Jamia blew her breath out but otherwise didn't dignify that with a response. She just stared at him, her eyes still really wide. 

"This is -" Frank was clutching the stick and his hand was really sweaty and he couldn't really feel his fingers. 

"Yeah," Jamia said.

"I mean, are you sure? Is it sure? Do we -"

"I peed on two sticks," she said. "Before I came out."

"And they both said -" Frank was really sweaty. His pits were, like, soaked. And he was clutching something Jamia had peed on. 

"That," Jamia said, gesturing at the stick with one wild hand. "They both said that."

"So." Frank took a breath, and walked over to the bookcase, carefully putting the stick down. He wiped his sweaty hands down the sides of his jeans and looked at the stick. Jamia came over to him and they both stood there, not touching each other, looking at the stick. 

"What have we done?" Jamia said finally. "Jesus Christ, Frank, this is _real_."

He looked at her, his jaw dropping open. "This is _real_." His heart was pounding so hard in his chest that it felt like it might pop out. "Jamia - I - fuck -" He grabbed her, tight, then pushed her away, because what if he hurt her, hurt the baby by being all _grabby_ like that, and - "Fuck, Jamia, you're pregnant."

"I'm pregnant," she said faintly. "Oh God. I could use a drink."

"No drinking!" Frank said. "I'll quit, too!" He had his hands on her shoulders, holding her at arm's length. He didn't know what he wanted to do. He couldn't let go of her.

"Fuck that," Jamia said, her voice shaky. "Go do a shot right fucking now, for me."

"I can do that!" Frank said wildly, and dragged her with him to the kitchen. 

She stumbled along behind him, her face pasty white with hot red spots high in her cheeks. She was in her favorite old t-shirt with the collar cut out - it had stains down one side and the hem was unraveling. It was huge and came down to her thighs, leaving her legs bare and smooth and hot. Her hair was a mess and she hadn't taken off her eye makeup that well, so it was a little smeared under her eyes. Frank couldn't take his eyes off of her. 

He fumbled the vodka out of the freezer, but couldn't get the top off - his fingers didn't seem to want to work. Jamia took it out of his hand, twisted the top off and sent it skittering across the counter when she dropped it. "Now," she said.

"Fuck." Frank poured himself a shot and did it, quickly. 

"Another," she said. Her eyes were bright and she was smiling, suddenly, her mouth turning up at corners like she couldn't help it, like it was fighting its way up out of her from her heart, which is exactly the same fucking way Frank felt, too. Like it was going to explode out of him. 

He did another shot, gasping as he swallowed, almost dropping the shot glass as he put it down. 

"Kiss me," Jamia demanded. 

Fuck, yeah. Frank dragged her in, kissing her hard and deep, Jesus, pressing his hands against her hips, hanging on, not letting her go. "Fuck," he said again, against her lips. "Fuck, Jamia, you're pregnant."

"I'm pregnant," she said, but it came out as a slightly hysterical giggle.

Frank couldn't fight the smile on his face, couldn't hold it back, even as he kept kissing her, again and again, until they both slid to the floor, helpless with laughter and completely fucking losing it right there in their kitchen.

Frank was slumped next to her, his head on her shoulder, and she was leaning up against a cabinet door, still occasionally letting out a giggle as she tried to catch her breath. "I mean," Frank said finally, trying to keep it together. "I knew this was what we were going for -"

"Oh, did you?" Jamia said. He could feel her lips against the top of his head. "I thought you just really, really liked coming inside me."

"I do really, really like coming inside you," Frank said. "But - I mean - Jesus, Jamia, we're having a baby."

"We're having a motherfucking _baby_ ," she whispered against his hair.

He shifted around a little, pushing himself up to sitting and looking at her.

She looked back at him and rolled her eyes a little, but that same tiny smile was at the corners of her mouth. "Fine," she said finally. "Do it."

He grinned and scooted forward on the kitchen floor, pushing her worn t-shirt up. She didn't move, just let him, slouched in her faded red panties, her belly and thighs bare and pale. Frank reached out with both hands, pressing them really fucking gently against her stomach.

"I'm probably only, like, twenty minutes pregnant at this point," she said. "I don't think you can feel anything."

Her voice was hushed, though, and Frank's was, too, when he murmured back, "Shut the fuck up." Her belly felt warm under his hands, and he moved them, nudging her panties down a little so that her whole stomach was cupped by his hands. He knew he couldn't feel anything, he wasn't an idiot, but the warmth of her belly, and what she had in there - something brand-new and only theirs - it made him feel like he'd been let in on a secret, just by touching her.

"Fuck, J," he said finally. "A baby."

"A motherfucking _baby_ ," she said again, softly. 

They stayed there on the kitchen floor for a long time.

***

They told Jamia's parents first. There was no way of doing it without making it clear that _something_ was going on - they didn't do family dinners like this that much. Frank's hands had been sweaty since the drive over. There was nothing quite like _absolutely confirming_ that yes, you had been fucking their daughter.

"So," Jamia said, when dinner was wrapping up, and Frank's stomach had been rolling over for about twenty-five minutes. "We have something to tell you."

Jamia's dad folded his napkin and looked at them expectantly. 

Her mom looked at Jamia's left hand, then at Frank, then back at Jamia. 

Frank was, he was pretty sure, actually going to puke. 

Jamia gave her parents a wide grin. "I'm pregnant," she said. 

"Oh, honey," her mom said, her voice breaking a little. "I thought you were going to say you were getting married, but this is good, too!"

Jamia rolled her eyes just the tiniest, tiniest bit. "Mom," she said warningly.

"I know," her mom said, holding up her hands. "I know, you don't go in for doing things by the book. I'm not saying anything! I just thought that was it! But a _baby_!" Her eyes sharpened. "Were you trying? How far along are you?" she demanded, pushing back from the table. "How long have you known? What does the doctor say?" She was up and around the table, her hands on Jamia's face, kissing her cheek and beaming.

Frank let out a tiny breath, and managed a glance at Jamia's dad. He was still sitting there, looking at them both thoughtfully. 

"Dad?" Jamia said, trying to pull away from her mom, who was trying to get her hands on Jamia's belly. "Well?"

Her dad said, "It's a big surprise. Give me a second here." He took a deep breath. "First grandbaby, you know," he said. "I'm not sure I'm ready to be a grandfather." He was smiling a little, teasing, and Jamia's face relaxed. "First grandbaby," he said again, getting up and coming around, nudging her mom out of the way so he could pull Jamia up out of her seat and give her a giant hug. 

Jamia's mom immediately switched her attention to Frank, hugging him tight enough that he couldn't breathe for a second. "Frank," she said, her voice full of emotion. "You're going to be a great daddy."

"I'm going to try my best," he managed to say, through the hug. 

She held him back by the shoulders, her eyes bright. "You'd better," she said.

She let him go as Jamia's father came over. Frank's stomach tied itself up in knots again. "Sir," he said dumbly.

Her father studied him carefully for a second, then reached out his hand. "Son," he said, as Frank shook it as firmly as he knew how, hoping his palm wasn't too damp. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

Frank swallowed, still shaking his hand up and down, because he didn't know how to _stop_.

Her father tugged him in closer, leaning in to his ear and stage-whispering, "These women are _crazy_ when they're in the family way. Brace yourself."

"Dad." Jamia smacked her father's arm.

"Honey, leave the boy alone," her mom demanded. "He looks like he's about to fall over. Sit down," she pointed at Frank. "You need a drink? I think we need a drink."

"A toast," her dad said. "To the kids."

"To the _kid_ ," her mom said, pressing her hand against Jamia's belly.

"Oh my God, stop it, mom," Jamia said, but she had her own hand over her mom's and she was grinning pretty huge. 

"I think we have a nice bottle of Riesling," her mom called after her dad, who had headed into the kitchen. "And get some sparkling cider for this one."

Frank headed into the kitchen to help. He glanced back over his shoulder, watching as Jamia's mom tugged her down into the chair, leaned close, and began pummeling her with questions. 

Okay. Okay. This was okay. Two parents down, two to go.

***

"Ma," Frank said again. " _Ma_. Ease up. She can't breathe."

His mom pulled away just far enough to look Jamia in the eye, still hugging her. "A baby," she said, beaming. "A baby, and he doesn't even put a ring on your finger? Honey," she said sternly. "I've been trying to make him take my mother's ring, God rest her soul, for a year now. You're family, and he doesn't want to make it official."

" _Ma_ ," Frank said, rummaging through her fridge for a beer he very sorely needed. "We don't want to get married. It's not just me, she doesn't want it right now either. A baby doesn't mean you have to get married."

"Is that right?" His mom looked at Jamia. "You don't want to marry him? Why not? He's a pretty good kid, when he's not being an idiot."

Jamia had a look on her face she had a _lot_ when she was around Frank's mom, caught between laughing and trying to keep a polite, serious face. "I know he is, Mrs. Iero, I -"

"Linda," Frank's mom interrupted. 

"...Linda," Jamia said. 

Frank's mom was still hugging her. Frank took a sip of his beer, leaning back against the counter next to the fridge, and mouthing, _sorry_ at Jamia. 

"We're good the way we are," Jamia said. "It works for us."

Linda gave her one final squeeze and let her go. "In my day, you got married _before_ the baby." She shrugged. "Mostly." 

"It's good news, though, right, Ma?" Frank said. "You're happy."

"I'd be happier if you'd stop stealing my beer." His mom swung around, advancing on him. "You can't even get Jamia something to drink? She's carrying your baby and you just stand there while her ankles swell."

Frank and Jamia both looked down at Jamia's absolutely normal ankles. 

"Get her some juice," Linda said. "And get me a beer, and come here and sit down, and tell me your plan. A baby is hard work, you know. I want to hear everything."

Frank did as he was told. When they all sat down around the worn Formica kitchen table, his mom leaned in, kissing his cheek firmly. "You're gonna be a daddy," she said. "I hope you're ready for it."

Frank got the same rolling hit of excitement in his stomach he felt every time he thought about it. "I'm ready, Ma," he said. 

"You _think_ you're ready," she said. "But you don't even know." She reached out to grab his hand, looking at him seriously. "I hope your kid is a holy terror." She grinned widely. "Sorry, Jamia. After what he put me through, he deserves it."

Frank grinned back. "I probably do." He probably did.

***

"Dad," he said. He could hear a lot of background noise on the other end of the phone. Frank glanced at his watch. His dad was probably getting ready to go on - he had a gig in Bloomfield that night. "Dad, did you hear me?"

"I heard you," Frank's dad said. "I dropped the phone in shock." He sounded really amused, so that was probably okay. 

Frank's heart, though, was beating really fast - he took in a breath of fresh air, glad he had come out on the porch to do this. He'd known exactly how his mother would react, but his dad was different. This felt like something that, in the back of his mind, Frank had been building up to his whole life. 

"We didn't want to tell anyone we were trying," Frank said. "We weren't sure - I mean, we just wanted to wait and see. But -"

"Frank," his dad cut in gently. "It's spectacular news. How is Jamia doing?"

"She's good, Dad," Frank said, relieved. "We both are."

His dad was silent for a second. "Is your mom happy?"

"Over the moon," Frank said. "Except for how she wants us to get married."

"Are you going to?" Frank's dad asked immediately.

Frank rolled his eyes, leaning on the porch railing with his elbows. "We don't need to, Dad. It's not something we feel like we need to do, you know?"

Frank could tell that his father was rolling his eyes right back at him from the moment of silence on the phone line. "Well," his dad said, clearing his throat. "I'm still happy for you both."

Frank grinned. "Thanks. That's big of you."

"Don't talk back, kid." There was another flurry of noise from the other side of the phone, and Frank's dad said, "I gotta go. Give Jamia a big hug for me, okay?"

"I will." Frank studied the slightly cracked wood of the railing in front of him.

"Love to you both," his dad said swiftly, then hung up.

Frank hung up, too. It was chilly out here and he tugged the sleeves of his hoodie down, breathing in deep again, and coughing when the cold air caught in his lungs. He wondered how his dad had felt, when he'd found out about Frank's mom being pregnant with him. 

He sighed, stretching a little and headed inside before the cold air had a chance to settle in his lungs. 

He stood for a second, studying the room they were in the process of clearing out to turn it into the baby's room. There were piles of books stacked up to be shifted, and boxes, unopened since they had moved in, ready to be moved to the basement. It was barely even a start, but it was something. 

He picked up a box, thinking about moving it down to storage, then stopped, balancing it on the edge of the desk in the corner, as his phone buzzed in his pocket. _home in a couple hours xoJ_

He texted back, _gonna eat you out when you get back, right up against the door xoF_

She texted back before he had a chance to heft the box up again. _home in 20 min_

He grinned and slid the phone back into his pocket, and lifted the box, sneezing at the dust on top. She'd be home, he'd do her _so_ hard and then he'd bring her the new pint of ice cream he'd stashed in the freezer. Maybe with some kosher dills, just so she could live up to the pregnancy stereotype.

***

Things didn't change that much, not right away. For the first couple of months, Jamia was just _tired_ all the time. Frank would come home from work and find her completely passed out, curled up on the couch, her shoes still on. She slept so hard that when he shook her awake, she'd have creases along the side of her face from the couch cushion, and it would take her a while to figure out what was going on.

"It's like the worst hangover in the world," she said tiredly, her face propped up on her hand as she slouched over the table, eating cereal for dinner. (It was the only thing that didn't make her stomach turn lately.) "It never ends. It's one hundred percent of the time. I feel like I have a parasite."

"You kind of do." Frank was eating cereal too. He liked it, and there was no cooking involved.

"I know." Jamia looked down at her bowl, like the spoon was too heavy to lift. Her hair, getting a little curly at the ends where it hit her shoulders, was a mess, still pushed sideways from where she'd fallen asleep on it on the couch. She took one more slow bite, then pushed the bowl away, putting her head down on her arms. "Is it bedtime yet?" Her voice came out hollow against the table. 

Frank glanced at the clock. It was seven fifteen. "....yes," he said.

"Can you put me to bed?" Jamia didn't move. "I need to go to bed. But it's really far away."

"I got you." Frank came around the table as Jamia reached one limp arm up. "Let's go." 

She let him haul her up, wrapping one arm around his waist and slumping against him. Her head rested against his chest, his arm around her shoulder, propping her up as he guided her down the hall to the bedroom. "Can we make a quick stop?" she mumbled. "Because I'm gonna puke."

"Yup." He reversed direction quickly, pushing her in front of him to the bathroom. 

She shut the door in his face as he pushed her through the doorway and he stood there for a second, listening, before heading to the kitchen for a bottle of water for her bedside table. It was bizarre how quickly he'd gotten used to this - handling what he could, while Jamia was...building their kid inside her. She was never, ever needy like this, and it was _strange_ , but not hard - it was kind of satisfying, that he could at least do this, be good at taking care of her while she was the one pregnant. 

She came back from the bathroom, her face drawn and pale, and started to crawl into bed with her clothes still on. 

"Hang on," he said, and deftly got her out of her jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie - a skill set he'd never have expected to use for this particular purpose. He'd gotten out her favorite pajamas, the soft, worn ones, with pants and top both stretched out so they didn't cut into her, where her stomach was getting a little bit more rounded out. 

She curled up under the covers after he got her into the PJs, blinking up at him tiredly as he sat down beside her on the bed. "Why are you so nice?" she mumbled. 

"Eh, I kind of like you." He pushed her hair out of her face. 

Her eyes were shut now, her face half-turned against the pillow. "I'm too tired to put out," she said, yawning around the words. "But I owe you, like, eighteen blowjobs or something."

"I'll put it on your tab," he promised.

She was already out. He sat there for a second, watching her sleep. He wanted to peek at her belly under the covers, see if he could tell what was going on there inside her, but she'd probably hit him for it, so he just grabbed another blanket from the foot of the bed, draping it over her to keep both her and the baby warm, and headed back out to the living room, shutting the door carefully behind him.

***

When they told Gerard, he cried.

Not, like, full-on sobbing, like when something bad happened or he watched the end of _Return of the King_ , but he put down his beer on the coffee table and his face got all blotchy and his voice was thick when he said, "Oh my god." 

He looked at Frank, then back at Jamia. "Seriously?" His voice broke on the word. "You _guys_." He shuffled forward on his knees to where Jamia was curled up on the couch, grinning at him. He rested his crossed arms on her lap and stared intently at her belly.

She was three months pregnant to the day, and they had waited to tell anyone except their parents, which had pretty much nearly _killed_ Frank. He'd been about to die of waiting.

"It looks exactly the same as it did last weekend," Frank pointed out. It pretty much did - Frank had sort of expected her to look different all at once - that glow or whatever, or at least more of a belly, but she really did look the same as always, so far. Still, he totally got it, how now it was the same, but _completely fucking different_ at the same time.

"Yeah, but now I know there's a _baby_ in there," Gerard breathed, still staring, the corners of his mouth turned up in what looked like an uncontrollable grin. He wiped at the corners of his eyes, unconcerned and unembarrassed. 

"It's, like, the size of an apple or something right now," Jamia pointed out. "It's not finished or anything." She was looking down at Gerard with that half-smile on her face, like she knew he was crazy, but it wasn't bothering her.

"She's got fingernails and toenails by now," Gerard said absently, still staring at Jamia's stomach.

"How do you know that?" Frank demanded.

"We have no idea if it's a girl or a boy yet," Jamia said at the same time.

Gerard didn't even budge. "I read things," he said, reaching out his hand a little, then pausing midway. "I'm sorry,” he said solemnly. “Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean just anyone gets to touch you."

Jamia patted Gerard's hair. "You're not just anyone," she said. "Go ahead."

Gerard flashed her a bright grin, and pressed his hand against her stomach, right under the Led Zeppelin logo on her t-shirt. "Oh man," he said softly.

"You can't even feel anything yet," Frank said. He'd know. He'd tried. 

"I know, but just..." Gerard trailed off, shifting so he could press both hands against Jamia's belly now. 

Jamia sighed, reaching for her water. "All she does is make me want to puke, like, four times a day," she said, taking a small sip. "Morning sickness is a misnomer. It's all day, every day."

"That's supposed to get better in the second trimester," Gerard said. He was still looking at his hands on Jamia's belly intently. "Have you started playing her music yet?" He looked over at Frank, then back up at Jamia.

"Of course," Frank said impatiently. "And why do you both keep saying 'she'?"

"He put headphones on my belly the first night," Jamia said, grinning. "She didn't even have ears yet."

Gerard nodded solemnly. "Yeah, but there's no evidence that says they don't, like, imprint on music. The tones, the vibrations, you know?"

"There is no way you can know it's a girl," Frank said, undeterred. "Right? Like. It's way too early." 

Gerard and Jamia looked at each other. "It's just a feeling," Jamia shrugged. 

Gerard nodded in agreement. "Have you started her on the Ramones yet?" he asked. "I have my headphones right over here, hang on." 

He moved away to start pawing through his messenger bag, and Frank watched as Jamia absently put her own hand over her belly. "Is it a girl?" he demanded. 

Jamia shrugged again. "I don't know," she said. "It feels like it, though."

Frank felt like he'd been hit in the face with a two by four. "But what if it actually is?" he asked. 

Jamia squinted over at him. "Then - it is."

"How do we raise a girl baby?" Frank's voice sounded a little bit high-pitched, and he took a quick gulp of beer to clear it. "How does that - I mean, what do you - what do we even know about girls?" Oh God. Somehow he'd never really thought about it that way. Like, it wasn't like he'd been thinking that much about raising a boy, either, it had just been this unspecific "Baby" in his brain, and now they were getting down to brass tacks and he had no fucking idea -

"Well," Jamia interrupted his whirling thoughts. "I _am_ a girl. So that might help." She was staring at him with one eyebrow up. 

"Also," Gerard added, still looking for his headphones, surrounded by the debris from his bag that had gotten dislodged in the search. "You don't have to do anything different with a girl. You raise her just the way you would a boy. It's not about gender, it's about values." He frowned a little bit at Frank. "You're thinking along very binary lines."

Frank stared at him. "You're right," he said finally. Because, well. He was. Jamia wasn't the girliest of girls and she was goddamn amazing. Frank could do this. He could. If it was a girl. "But you guys don't even know for real, so stop it, okay?" He pointed at each of them. 

"We're not even going to find out for sure until she's born," Jamia said, settling herself more comfortably on the couch. 

"We could find out the five-month appointment," Frank said hurriedly. "We haven't decided yet."

"We're going to wait," Jamia said.

"We haven't _decided_ yet," Frank said firmly.

Jamia rolled her eyes at him and took another sip of water. 

Gerard crowed in delight, extracting his headphones, and plugging them into his iPod. He crawled back over to Jamia and spent a little while kneeling in front of her, intently scrolling through his music. "Here," he said finally, putting the tiny headphone buds on her belly. "Huh," he said, looking down at them "This would work better with old-school headphones, huh?" 

"It's fine," Jamia said. "Play."

Gerard hit the button, then hurried to hold the earbuds in place. "'Sheena is a Punk Rocker’," he said, looking up at Jamia, then over at Frank.

"Nice," Frank said, and Gerard settled back on his heels, watching Jamia's belly in the exact same way he'd watch Frank or Mikey when he wanted to make sure they were enjoying whatever new band he'd dug up off of the internet.

"I love this song," Jamia said, putting her hand over one of Gerard's. 

The tinny echo of the music was loud enough to hear, and Gerard looked up at Jamia again. "I put it on loud," he said. "There's a lot going on in there. Amniotic fluid and whatever. I don't want her to miss the lyrics."

Jamia nodded solemnly, taking another sip of water, then making a face. She swallowed with difficulty, breathing through her mouth for a second. "Fuck," she said. "How can fucking _water_ make me - oh God, get out of my way."

She shoved Gerard back, earbuds flying, and launched herself off the couch, her face actually looking _green_ as she hauled ass for the bathroom.

Frank lifted his feet out of the way as she went past him.

Gerard sat where she had pushed him, leaning back on his hands and looking after her, an expression of awe and concern on his face. 

From the bathroom came the sound of retching. Frank winced, and took a sip of beer.

"Is she okay?" Gerard said, making a move to get up. "Should one of us go, like, hold her hair or - ?"

"I will _fuck you up_ if you come in here," Jamia hollered from the bathroom. "Both of you assholes stay the fuck _out_."

Gerard stared at Frank, wide-eyed. 

Frank shrugged. "She doesn't like an audience."

"Even if someone holds her hair?" Gerard asked.

"Even then." Frank had learned that the hard way.

"I like it when someone's there to hold my hair," Gerard said wistfully. "It's nice, and sometimes they hold a cool washcloth to your forehead after."

Frank knew that about Gerard. He'd had more than one experience of holding back Gerard's hair after a bender. "I do the washcloth thing," he offered. "When she lets me."

Another sound of retching came from the bathroom, and they both stayed respectfully silent, listening to Jamia heave.

"You want another beer?" Frank asked finally, getting up.

"Yeah," Gerard said, distractedly scrolling through his iPod. "I think I'm going to play the baby the Smiths, when J comes out," he called after Frank. "It'll be kind of soothing, you know?"

"Do it," Frank said, getting two beers out of the fridge and a pint of Haagen Dazs French Vanilla out of the freezer. Jamia was always starving for ice cream after she puked. Frank had no idea how she did it - ice cream made him feel a little bit sick at the best of times - but she did, and she liked it a little bit melty. He grabbed a spoon, too, and headed back to the living room. He handed Gerard a beer, took a long gulp from his own, set the ice cream down by Jamia's spot on the couch, then headed to the bathroom door.

"Baby?" he said, then glanced over to the couch to see if Gerard had heard. It wasn't that he was embarrassed by the nickname, it was just that some things were private. 

"Come in." Jamia's voice sounded exhausted.

Frank turned the knob and went in, finding her slumped against the wall by the toilet, her face ash-white, her eyes shut. 

"This sucks," she said tiredly.

"I know." Frank turned the cold water on full blast to get it really icy, and grabbed a face cloth, letting the water run for a second before soaking the cloth in it. He wrung it out and knelt down on the floor next to Jamia. "Can I?" 

She nodded without opening her eyes, and he pressed the cloth to her forehead, first, and then against her cheeks, which had high spots of color, bright against her ashen skin. She mumbled her appreciation, and he moved the folded cloth back to her forehead, shifting around to sit next to her. 

She let her head fall against his shoulder. "That feels good."

His mouth quirked in a grin. "That's what Gerard says, when I do this for him."

"He's got you so whipped," she mumbled, pressing closer.

They sat there for a while, until Jamia took a breath and pushed herself forward, rubbing the heels of her hands against her eyes. "Okay," she said, "Okay. God, I'm fucking starving."

"There's ice cream melting on the table for you right now," Frank said.

"God, I love you," Jamia pushed herself to her feet, then reached back to grab Frank's hand, hauling him up after her. "This is why I'm bearing your child."

He laughed, feeling it bubble out of his chest, because - he loved her. He just fucking _loved_ her. "Go eat your gross melty ice cream," he ordered.

"Suck my cock," she said, and pulled him out the bathroom door after her.

***

Frank thought he was ready - well, he knew he wasn't _ready_ , but he thought he had at least pretty much braced himself for not being ready. He knew having a baby didn't change a person, not really, and it wasn't like he expected Jamia to start, like, having tea parties and cooing over tiny pink dresses or anything.

("You're the one who's over the fucking moon about anything pink with tulle," Jamia pointed out when Frank paused for, like, a _second_ at the baby section of Target.

"That's so un-fucking-true." He wasn't even looking at the stupid pink party dresses. He was looking at the tiny, tiny shoes with polka dots all over them. They were seriously fucking adorable.)

And then at about five months Jamia's belly just _popped_. She went from her everyday belly to oh-fuck-there's-really-a-baby-in-there belly. He'd been paying attention to it, fascinated to see the change, but one day it was _serious belly_ , and when she rolled over sleepy and warm in the morning, it was pressed up against his side. 

"Fuck," he said softly, and pushed the covers back, ignoring Jamia's annoyed sounds and how she was tugging at the blanket to try to get it back up over her. 

"It's too fucking early for that," she moaned, rolling her face into the pillow and holding onto the covers with a death grip. "Even for me."

"I just want to see." Frank fought her for the covers. "Let go and let me fucking look at you," he demanded.

"Fuck you so fucking hard," she mumbled, but let the covers go. Her hair was half covering her face and she sighed heavily as he dragged the blanket down.

Her t-shirt was riding up over the bump, and it was there, and real, rounded out and firm when Frank put his hand on it. Her skin was really warm and soft and the curve of her belly under his hand was sort of - fucking _terrifying_. "You're...really pregnant." His voice came out a little shaky, and he had to really concentrate to catch his breath.

"No shit, Sherlock." She peeked down at him from under her hair. "Is it weird? It's weird."

"It's _so fucking weird_ ," he said.

Jamia pushed herself up on her elbows and Frank stayed where he was and they both just stared at it for a while. 

Frank still had his hand on the bump - it felt real and round and _right_ under his palm. "Fuck," he said softly. 

"Yeah," Jamia said, her voice just as quiet.

Frank leaned down and kissed her belly before he really thought about it. He just _wanted_ to. 

It moved under his lips as Jamia laughed a little. "You're such a girl," she murmured, but she pushed a hand into his hair and rested it there as he turned his head, pressing his cheek against her belly, imagining he could feel the ocean-type movement of their _baby_ being created right inside there, right now.

***

Suddenly, Jamia was too big for her regular clothes. She'd been wearing her normal t-shirts or whatever, but they started getting stretched out at the bottom. She hadn't been able to button her jeans for weeks to begin with, and now getting them on at all was a lost cause.

She had a million cousins, and so did Frank, and they ended up with a truly dizzying area of really awful hand-me-down maternity clothes. She picked through them, but mostly ended up wearing skirts with stretchy waists and old Megadeth t-shirts they picked up at the Goodwill.

She'd cut out the collars and put them on with some black skirt and look kick-ass and gorgeous, with her belly poking out roundly and her lip curled into a snarl whenever someone at the grocery store tried to touch it. 

They'd had tickets to a concert for months, since way before she started showing, and Frank didn't really think it would be a big deal - they'd been to this club a million times and it wasn't like they'd be going in the _pit_ or anything. 

When Jamia walked out dressed for the show, her hair messy, wearing a black dress that came to halfway down her thighs, leggings on underneath, and stompy boots, she looked - really pregnant. Like, all belly. 

It made Frank want to run his hands up under her skirt. 

"Let's go," she said, stuffing her cell phone into her bra. 

Her tits were outgrowing her bras, but she refused to buy new ones, so they were just shoved together, practically spilling over the top of her dress. Frank wasn't sure how she even fit the cell phone _in_ there.

"Okay," he said. "You sure it'll be okay? The loud music won't, you know -" He gestured at her stomach. "Hurt it or anything?"

Jamia stared at him. "You've been playing the Misfits to her through a pair of fucking headphones _on my stomach_ for months now," she pointed out. "I think it'll be okay."

"Right," Frank said, shrugging on his jacket. "Right, okay, let's go."

"That's what I said," Jamia said smoothly, and sailed out the door ahead of him.

The concert was good - it was a small place, but there was a raised platform area back behind the pit, where they could get a good view. The club was pretty full when they got there, the music of the openers loud enough that even shouting, they couldn't hear each other. Frank put a hand on the small of Jamia's back, nudging her towards the wall on the far side of the raised area. They had a decent view of the stage from there, but more importantly, Frank could brace his arm against the wall, behind Jamia's shoulders. With the wall on one side and Frank on the other, and Frank's elbow cocked out to keep everyone well back from them, he was pretty sure he had her covered.

He kind of expected her to roll her eyes or try to push him away (she could try all she wanted, but fuck if he was backing off), but she just sort of pressed up against his side for a second before pulling away and settling in for the show.

It was a great fucking show, and even not getting to slam around in the pit was okay. Frank knew the drummer from a band he'd been in a few years back, and the music was excellent. Jamia was into it, too, braced there beside him, not dancing, obviously, but screaming back lyrics at the band, whistling with her fingers in her mouth when they were done with a song, and grinning, wide and bright, throughout. 

When the lights came up, she turned the smile on him. She was soaked with sweat, her hair a little frizzed out in a crazy halo around her head, and her cheeks were bright red. Frank felt pretty awesome himself, loose and happy and like he could really go for a cold beer.

He slung his arm around her waist, letting his hand rest on the side of her belly, as they made their way out. He was so aware of her, always, but particularly in a crowd like this. He knew she could take care of herself, knew she could take care of the baby, but he didn't want to take the fucking chance of anyone even bumping up against her.

They were almost at the bar when she said, "Hey, hold up a second, okay?"

He turned to her instantly, completely sure that something was wrong, that this was too much, that she was too tired or hurt or -

"C'mere," she said, and pulled him back into the dim alcove near the bar, away from the crowd. 

"Are you okay?" His voice came out high and anxious, but he didn't care. "Are you -"

"C'mere," she said again, and wound an arm around his neck, tugging him close and kissing him. 

He was clumsy at first, as he tried to change tack. Then he kissed her more intently as she pressed closer, her belly a warm bump in between them, her back to the wall, her leg coming up a little to hook around his calf, keeping him there. 

"Fuck," she mumbled against his lips. "Fuck, c'mon -" 

She kept kissing him, hot and wet and messy, as she grabbed his hand and dragged it up under her skirt. He gasped as he felt how hot she was against his fingers, even through the layers of leggings and panties. She rocked up against him, tightening her thighs around his hand. 

"Fuck, Frank." She moved to bite his neck, his shoulder, restless and rocking her hips up against him. "I need to fucking - God, yeah, fuck - I -"

"Jesus," Frank said, his wrist aching from the angle, from how hard she was clamping her thighs around him. "Jesus, J, not here, c'mon -"

He managed to pull his hand away, and she gave this hot, broken moan. "I was getting close," she said breathlessly, glaring at him. 

"Jesus." Frank ran his hand through his hair, and grabbed her. "Let's fucking go."

They made it out of the club, and by the time they hit the parking lot, Jamia was tugging him after her, striding with purpose toward their car.

He turned toward her, reaching for her, once they got in, but she shook her head and pointed at the road. "I need more than just to get off," she said, her voice tight. "Get me home and fuck me. Okay?"

"I -" Frank's mouth was hanging open and it took him a second to shut it. "I - yes. Okay."

"Go," she said, staring out the windshield, the color high in her cheeks. "Just - drive fast."

He didn't - he drove as fast as he felt was safe, with J and the baby and his giant boner all being a big fucking distraction - but he got them home in really good time. She had the seatbelt off and was out the door before he had the key out of the ignition. 

The second they got through the apartment door, she pushed him up against it and kissed him, hard and desperate. "Frank," she said, her voice the sort of steady that meant she was about to lose it. 

"On it," he said, and did a move that quickly reversed their positions in a way that was _very_ smooth, he thought smugly. She made a quiet noise in her throat when he pressed her against the door. He pushed her dress up and she shoved her leggings down, panting and wriggling against him until she kicked them off.

He pushed his fingers into her panties immediately. "Jesus fuck, you're soaking wet," he muttered against her neck, as she bucked up against his hand. 

"Fuck," she ground out. "Fuck, harder, come on, come _on_." She was shoving her hips forward against him and he couldn't get a rhythm going with her working against him like that. He grabbed her hip with his free hand, shoving her panties further down, then holding her hard against the door. She hissed in a breath and stayed there, while he worked her clit with his fingers, going for it fast and firm, circling it just how she liked it, while she groaned and sank her fingers into his hair, holding his head against her shoulder.

"Yeah?" he said, mouthing her neck, and keeping up the steady rhythm.

She just moaned brokenly, and God, Christ, she was close, her eyes squeezed shut, her breath coming in forced pants. The skin of her belly was warm against his arm as he stroked her, and he could smell how fucking hot for it she was, felt surrounded by it, caught up in it.

"I -" She had her hips tilted forward, like she couldn't stop herself, pressing up hard against where he had her pinned with his hand and hips. "I - fuck, Frank, I - you - _fuck_ \- fucking just -" 

She came, shuddering hard, banging her head back, her whole body shaking against him. She made so much noise that Frank knew their neighbors would be giving them looks in the hall for _weeks_. 

"Jesus." She sagged against the door, and pushed his hand away weakly. 

Her dress was hiked up, her legs bare, her black cotton panties twisted halfway down her thighs. Her belly was round, sticking out from under the rucked-up dress, and her eyes were shut as she tried to catch her breath.

Frank had been so completely focused on her for that whole time, but now his cock was fucking _throbbing_ , hard as goddamn rock, pressed up against his zipper. His hand was soaked with her, and he couldn't stop himself from pressing his fingers into his mouth, licking the sharp taste of her off. 

She blinked her eyes open, as she slumped against the door, watching him. Her eyes were hot and lidded and she ran them down his body, stopping where his dick was pressed so fucking hard against his jeans. "Fuck me," she said, pushing herself off the door. She wriggled her panties the rest of the way down her legs, kicking them off. "I need - Frank, I really need it."

She sounded a little weirded out and a lot desperate, and Jesus fuck, yes, Frank was the man for this job. "Get in there," he said, pushing her towards the bedroom. "I'll make you come so hard you won't know your own name."

She slid her dress off over her head as she went down the hall, and he stood there for a second, just watching her, as her hips swayed, her full ass just asking to be bitten. She reached behind her as she got to the bedroom door, unclasping her bra and letting it slide off her arms. She half-turned around in the doorway, wrapping her arms around her breasts - bigger now, even, than they had been before, all flushed with how turned on she was. The little grin she gave him was silly-sexy, a sex-kitten tease as she tilted her head to guide him closer, but fuck, it made his dick throb in his jeans, how hot she was, all curves - breasts, hips, belly, thighs. He wanted to fuck her. He wanted to come all over her. He wanted to just press against her and never let her go.

She shoved the comforter down and climbed onto the bed, sprawling there with their pillows pushed up behind her head. She watched him as he toed off his shoes, tugged his shirt off, and undid his jeans carefully - Jesus, he was _so fucking_ hard. 

Her eyes were on his dick from the second he pulled it out. They'd been together forever, he'd fucked her six ways from Sunday a hundred times, a thousand times - but she was staring at his dick like it was the best thing she'd ever seen in her life.

"You're so fucking hot for this," she said softly, running her fingers over her tits - her nipples darker now, and hard, and then she ran her fingers down over her rounded stomach - God, she looked so _different_ \- and let her thighs fall open. He was kneeling between her spread thighs, his view fucking spectacular as she let her fingers run between her legs, under her belly, just gently stroking, the lightest of touches, not even going for her clit, but shuddering a little bit, like just that soft stroking was getting her off. 

He couldn't take his eyes off of her, and she kept looking at him as she teased herself, her eyes flickering between his face (he knew he must look ridiculous - his mouth kept falling open and he was panting like he was running a race) and his hard dick. He wrapped his hand around himself and the sound he made was so fucking loud, even to his own ears, but he couldn't help it, it felt so good. "You want this?" he said, and it should have been a stupid, porn-star line, but his voice came out all rough and serious. 

Jamia just moaned out, "Yes, _fuck_ , Frank, _yes_."

He moved forward as she took her hand away. He kept his dick in his hand, going for it the same way she had been, stroking the head lightly up against her, just barely brushing against her, and fuck, Jesus, _fuck_ , he could feel, just barely, how hot she was against his skin. 

"Fuck," she panted, her thighs tight as she spread her legs further, her eyes wide. She looked like she was holding herself back, keeping herself from pressing up against him, swallowing hard as he brushed up against her again, and again. "I -" She was shaking, sweating, her hairline damp with it. "I need - Frank, I -" 

She wrapped a hand around his biceps and he felt like such a - _man_ , like a fucking _superhero_. "Gonna fuck you so hard," he said, low, like a promise.

"I need it," she whispered. "I need it, Frank, fucking - you can hold on, right?" Her voice sounded hot, desperate, needy. "I'm -" She had to stop, swallow again, like she couldn't quite get the words out. She had her eyes closed, and turned to press her cheek against the pillow, like she was - was she _embarrassed_? "I need you to go for a _while_ ," she managed finally. "I really just - I need - I -"

"Fuck." His voice came out slightly strangled, but he shook his head and squeezed the base of his dick, hard. He was good. They were good. He was going to do this for her and his dick was going to just hold the fuck on, and stay as hard as it was right now until she'd come all over it, as much as she needed to. "Baby, I'm gonna fuck you for as long as you can take it."

"Fuck, yeah," she said faintly, opening her eyes and spreading her legs wider. "Come on."

He groaned, and finally, finally allowed his dick to press forward. She moaned as he slid in, steady and slow, and he was moaning, too. His eyes were shut tight, even though he wanted to see her, wanted to see her face as he slid in, but oh God, it was almost too much. She was so fucking hot and so fucking wet and Jesus, tight, _tight_ , giving way around his dick as he slid in, taking it as slow as he could handle, while she wrapped her thighs around his hips and shook underneath him.

When he was all the way in, surrounded by her, throbbing so hard that he didn't know if it was him or her, or them just pulsing together, he opened his eyes. Her face was so flushed, her mouth open wide as she panted for breath, her eyes shut, her head thrown back. "Yeah?" he said, just sort of grinding all the way inside her. Jesus, he wanted to fuck, but - "Is this -" He had to stop to swallow, in order to get the words out. "Are you - I mean." He shifted again, so deep inside her, and she moaned brokenly. "I don't want to hurt you."

She squeezed her cunt around him, and he gasped. "You can't," she said tightly. "You won't. I looked it up. It's safe. We're safe. Fuck, Frank," she panted. "Do it. Do it."

He made a strangled sound and pulled almost all the way out, sliding back in hard, while she writhed under him and made these hot, desperate sounds. Jesus, his head was spinning. He fucked her, building up the pace, sinking all the way in as deep as he could, before pulling out and shoving back in. She was shaking, her whole body damp with sweat, and he kept himself pushed up, not wanting to put his weight on her belly. It made the angle different, and it felt fucking amazing. "It's so fucking good," he panted. "This is - I can do this for fucking hours." He really felt like it, felt like he was riding that perfect edge, her pussy all around him, her body shaking and beautiful underneath him as he pushed in again, and again.

"Yeah," she gasped out, and lifted her hips off the bed to meet him. "Yeah, like - that, like _that_ , don't stop, okay, oh God, oh _God_.

He kept her there, fucking into her, until his arms burned, his muscles ached, feeling like he had been hard and inside her for _days_. She was shaking under him and he wasn't sure if she had come or not, but she finally went, "Oh - God, oh - Frank." She said it frantic, urgent. "Just like that, just like - don't come, okay? Don't come, I need - oh God, I need - please just -"

He was hot and so close and his dick was so hard and he felt like he could come if he fucking blinked, but he just kept up the rhythm, biting his lip hard and blinking the sweat out of his eyes, wanting to see it, to feel it when she - 

"Ah, _fuck_." Her eyes were shut tight, her fingers digging into his back sharply. "Ah, ah, Frank, fuck, I -" She moaned and tilted her hips up, going tighter around him. "There, just - _there_." She dug her heels into his ass, her hands firm on his back, holding him all the way inside her, deep. Frank's heart was pounding throughout his entire body, sweat slipping into his eyes, as she cried out and came around him.

He held on, his arms shaking, his dick deep inside of her, until she slowly, slowly, relaxed around him. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice _wrecked_. "Was that -"

"God," she moaned, blinking her eyes open, the color high in her cheeks. "I - I just need a little more. Frank. I - can you -"

She sounded desperate and Frank needed to come so bad his head hurt, but - fuck, yes, he could do this for her. He would do anything she asked. "Yeah," he said, his voice rough, taking a deep breath. "I need to just - lemme -"

He pulled out, sitting back on his knees, wrapping his hand around his dick, squeezing the base, needing to just get control for a second. Jamia let out this moan, and when he opened his eyes, she was staring down at his dick - it was wet and red and fucking _swollen_ with how hard it was. 

"You're so -" she said, and shifted on the bed. "I need -"

She moved a little more, closer to him where he was kneeling between her legs, and she was close enough that his dick was brushing up against her. "Like that," she said, gazing up at him anxiously. "Please, just - against my clit, like that, I need -"

He moved, tugging her up over his thighs a little, and pushed the head of his dick forward, sliding it up over her clit. They both moaned, really loud, and when he did it again, harder, she started shaking.

"Yeah," she was panting out under him. "Yeah, like - _that_ , oh God, oh _fuck_."

"J," he gasped, letting go of his dick so he could get a full slide up over her soaked cunt with the length of it. "Jesus, J, I'm not sure - I can't hold back for that much - " Oh God, oh _God_. "- longer, I -"

"Just a little bit more," she said, fucking _begging_ , oh fucking Christ, it was so _hot_. "Just a little - I'm so close, I -"

He slid up against her, his whole length, again, and again. He was going to come. He was going to _come_ , he couldn't - he had to - 

"I -" She was tense, close, under him. "I - Frank -"

He slid against her again, the head of his dick brushing against the very bottom of her round belly, and somehow _didn't come_. He just thrust again, and - he was - he had to - oh God - he pushed against her again, and again. She was shaking apart under him, crying out, coming, oh God, thank _fuck_.

He ground out, "I'm gonna - I gotta - oh fuck, Jamia, I'm gonna come, gonna fucking _come_ -"

"Do it," she panted, pushing herself up on her elbows, her eyes dark, watching him. "Come on, baby, fucking _do it_ , I want to feel it. Come _on_."

One more slide, another, and oh God that was it, that was _it_. It felt like he was coming with his _whole body_ , shaking so hard and hanging onto her tight, losing it all over her, coming all over her clit, her thighs, some of it even arching up to spatter on her _belly_. Frank couldn't stop, he had to just - "Oh God." One final shudder, one final pulse, the head of his dick pressed right up against the smooth skin of her belly, slick with his come, and he was fucking _done_.

"Jesus Christ." Jamia slumped back, sounded dazed. "That was so fucking hot, Frankie."

He only just managed to collapse beside her instead of on top of her, but that was _it_. He was done. That was all he had. He couldn't feel his fingers. His heart was pounding in his _brain_. "I -" he started and then had to stop, because there were no more words in his head. That was it. He was broken.

"God." Jamia was sprawled beside him, flat on her back on the bed, spread-eagled. Her chest was heaving and he could only stare at her, her eyes closed, her face gorgeous, her whole entire body a series of curves, everything round and soft and _perfect_. "Frank." She fumbled for his hand, finally grabbing onto it and holding it tightly. "Thank you. I fucking needed that."

He made some noise in his throat, that he hoped sounded like _you're welcome_ , but words were still beyond him. His entire body hurt. His arms were spaghetti. His dick was sore. And looking at her fucking spread out there beside him, if he could have in _any way_ gotten it up, he would have absolutely gone again. "You're so fuckin' beautiful," he managed. "Jesus, J."

She smiled up at the ceiling, her eyes still closed. "That was," she said. "The greatest fuck of my life." She took a deep breath, which did amazing things for her tits, and turned over onto her side slowly, groaning, to look at him. "Seriously," she said. "Thank you."

Frank could only just gaze at her, curled up on her side, her breasts and her belly resting on the bed. She looked like _art_. He reached out, his hand shaky, and ran it down the curve of her side, her hip, her thigh. 

She murmured happily, curling into herself, then gasped, her eyes flying open. 

"What?" Frank struggled to sit up. Fuck. _Fuck_. Had he hurt their baby with his _dick_? How was he the worst father ever _already_? "Jamia, fuck, what?"

She shook her head hard opening her mouth, but not saying anything, like she couldn't get any words out. "Just -" She stopped, freezing, and gulped. "Fuck, Frank, the baby's kicking, I -"

She grabbed his hand, dragging it to rest on her rounded belly, and they stayed there, frozen, while he felt the warm skin under his hand, but there wasn't anything, just his pulse thudding, he didn't - 

He looked at Jamia's face. "I don't feel it."

"Hang on," she said, shoving his hand away. "Let me just - oh fuck, that is so fucking _weird_." She froze, both hands cupped over her stomach, a far-away look in her eyes. "It's not much, it's just this - flutter, or - _oh_." She grabbed his hand, pulling it against her, and he felt it. Fuck, _fuck_ , he felt it, the last quick _flutters_ , Jamia was right, like a muscle twitch, kind of, but more than that, a movement with _intent_.

They stared at each other, both of them open-mouthed and wide-eyed and probably totally fucking ridiculous, but he didn't care, because - "Jesus, J," he said, and then didn't say anything else, _couldn't_ say anything else, because he was kissing her, dragging her close, her belly a solid presence between them, because - "That's our baby," he whispered.

"That's our _baby_ ," she said back, so soft, like they both thought saying it loud would fuck it up. 

Jamia threaded her fingers through his, both of their palms pressed against the round of her stomach. They lay there in hushed silence, both of them barely breathing as they waited to feel their baby move again.

***

"Lamaze," said Jamia doubtfully, squinting at the pamphlet the doctor had handed her.

"It helps," Dr. Kronman said, shrugging. "I know you're thinking about every pregnant woman you've ever seen breathing funny on TV -"

Frank looked at Jamia. They both totally were. 

"But it does help." She shrugged again. "You don't have to do it, but natural childbirth is definitely something to think about. It's better for you, it's better for the baby."

"I -" Jamia looked at Frank. "I don't know," she said finally. "Maybe."

"Think about it," Dr. Kronman said, and handed a copy of the pamphlet to Frank. "You don't always get to plan how it goes, so it's smart to be prepared."

Frank stared at the pamphlet. It showed outlines of couples (each couple was a man and a woman. _Very heteronormative_ , Frank heard in Gerard's voice in his brain), sort of entwined together in a really unsexy way, making it look like the baby would just slide out without causing any kind of a ruckus.

Jamia was staring at her pamphlet, too. She looked just as unconvinced as he felt.

"Okay," said Dr. Kronman, sitting down in her rolling chair. The wheels squeaked as she pulled herself forward. Jamia was already all set up for this, lying back on the table, her shirt pushed up, paper blanket over her lap. Six months now, and her stomach was so much bigger than it had been even a month ago. She was rounder all over - her thighs, her hips, her face - and Frank couldn't get enough of it, of how soft she looked and how real that made all this. 

Frank stood next to Jamia. He didn't know what to do with his hands. He was a little sweaty and he wiped them down the sides of his jeans.

Dr. Kronman squirted the gel on Jamia's belly, and Jamia and Frank both snickered, the way they both did every time. "The sound is funny!" Jamia said defensively.

Dr. Kronman rolled her eyes and stopped with the wand poised over Jamia. "So what's the call?" she asked. "Do you want to know the sex this time?"

"No," Jamia said, at the same time Frank said, "Yes."

Dr. Kronman looked back and forth between the two of them. "Wasn't it the other way around last time?"

"Last time you said it was moving around too much to tell!" Frank said. They even got to keep pictures of that one, because the kid was being coy, curved around, and all they could really see was the curve of the head and the butt. 

It was a pretty adorable butt, Frank thought.

"Yeah, but you," Dr. Kronman pointed at Frank with the wand, "didn't want me to tell you even if I could. And _you_ -" Dr. Kronman pointed the wand at Jamia, "said you already knew and just wanted the confirmation of how right you were." Dr. Kronman looked back and forth between the two of them again. "Then you fought about it for a while, and Jamia called Frank a pussy, and Frank knocked over that tray right there -"

"By accident," Frank broke in. It really had been an accident. He'd been pacing as he fought with J, and hit it with his hip.

"By accident," Dr. Kronman allowed. "But still." She looked at the two of them again, wand once again poised over Jamia. "One last time," she said sternly. "Do you want to know the sex of your baby?"

Frank and Jamia looked at each other. Jamia sighed. 

"Well?" said Dr. Kronman. She looked really tired as she waited for their answer. 

"No," said Frank, just as Jamia said, "Yes." They glared at each other, and Dr. Kronman made a sound like a stifled curse, and turned the screen away from both of them. 

"I'm going to do this ultrasound," she said firmly, putting the wand on Jamia's belly and spreading the goo around. "I'm going to make sure your baby is healthy, and that everything looks like it's going well. And while that's happening, you two are going to be quiet and think about things and at the end, you're going to tell me if you want to know. Got it?"

Frank sighed and Jamia sulked as best she could with her shirt pushed up and her stomach glistening with gross gel. 

"Do you really want to know?" Jamia asked finally, staring at the back of the TV like she could somehow see through it.

"Yes," Frank said softly. He did, he wanted to know. He thought it might make it better to be used to the idea of whatever it was. He was fucking terrified of knowing, and his stomach was clenched with something like excitement, too, but - "I mean. No," he said, after a handful of seconds. "I don't -" He stopped, scrubbing his sweaty hands down the sides of his jeans again, making a sound of frustration in his throat.

Jamia rolled her eyes at him, but after a second, she reached out and grabbed his hand, tugging him closer to the exam table. She looked up at him, while Dr. Kronman moved the wand over her belly, squinting at the screen and making occasional noises of approval, and muttering things like, "Good movement. Excellent heartbeat. Nice positioning. Oh, there's a kick!" as Jamia winced. 

"That was a good one," she said, squeezing Frank's hand. "Kid's gonna be a bruiser."

Frank held onto her hand tightly, looking down at her belly, where their kid was, and then up at Jamia's face, her eyes wide and dark and cheerful, now. She was so fucking gorgeous, and their kid was clearly doing well, from Dr. Kronman's irritated approval, and Frank felt his stomach sort of ease up and unclench. "J," he said softly. "I don't care if we know. Our kid's going to be kickass."

Jamia's fingers pressed into his palm for a second. "Let's find out," she whispered, staring up at him like they were alone, like it was this private thing, even with the hum and whirr of the machines, the squeak of the wheels on Dr. Kroman's chair as she shifted. "Let's ask."

"I -" Frank had to swallow before he could speak, his pulse kicking up a notch. "Yeah," he said finally, not as quietly as he had intended. "Okay."

"Okay." Jamia hung onto his hand tightly as she turned back to Dr. Kronman. "Okay, fuck it," she said. "We want to know. Tell us."

Dr. Kronman looked at Jamia over the top of her glasses, then tilted her head up at Frank. She was quiet for along handful of seconds before she finally nodded. "How about I show you, instead?" she said, and turned the screen around with one decisive movement. 

Frank stared, trying to make sense of it. He could never fucking tell what he was looking at the first time he saw one of these ultrasound things. It mostly went, _okay, that's a baby_ and _I think that's its head_. That happened this time, per usual, and he squinted, moving closer to the screen, as Jamia did the same thing, pushing herself up on her elbows 

"Here," Dr. Kronman finally took pity on them, and pointed, and Frank didn't see anything, because - 

" _Oh_ ," he said out loud, really loud, sounding stupid and possibly a little drunk and he didn't care, because -

"Oh my fucking God," Jamia said, her fingernails cutting into Frank's palm as she clutched at his hand. "I was _right_." 

"It's a...girl?" Frank said dumbly, looking first at Jamia, but she was staring at Dr. Kronman, waiting for her answer.

"It's a girl," said Dr. Kronman. "Now these appointments are going to be about twenty minutes shorter, since we can stop having this fight every time, right?"

"Right," said Jamia faintly, sagging back onto the table, still staring at the monitor.

"Right," said Frank, looking at the fuzzy, blurred, black and white image of their baby girl. 

They came out of the office in a daze, both of them clutching their Lamaze pamphlets. Frank helped Jamia on with her coat clumsily, and she held it closed over her stomach as they walked out to their car. 

Frank stopped with his hand on the passenger door handle, turning around to look at Jamia. "It's a _girl_ ," he said. "You totally did know."

"A _girl_ ," Jamia said, dazedly. "I did, but - I didn't _know_ , and now -" She was still clutching her coat over her belly, like she was protecting it. "Now -"

"J," Frank said, his voice breaking a little, and she pushed herself forward, pinning him against the car as she kissed the fuck out of him. 

He was breathless by the time she pulled back, her hands clenched on his shoulders, her stomach pressed against him. Her eyes were wide and dark, and she looked really excited, and really fucking freaked out, which was good, because he was feeling exactly the same way. "A girl," she said breathlessly. "Oh God, Frank, fourteen year old girls are the absolute worst. What are we going to do when she's a teenager?"

"Lock her up," he said, slightly hysterical laughter bubbling up in his chest. "But I think we have some time to worry about that." Oh my God. A tiny baby _girl_. He was so buying those polka-dotted shoes. Like, now. On their way home. "C'mon, let's get you inside, okay? It's fucking raw out here."

He held the door for her, waiting until she got inside, slightly unsteadily, hanging on to the doorframe. He had to take a deep breath of the chilly fall air before he could make himself move. A girl. A _girl_.

He got in the car just as Jamia was snapping her seat belt shut and settling back against her seat. "You know I gotta do this, right?" she said, her voice high and happy.

"Yep." He pushed the key into the ignition, but waited to turn it.

"I told you so," she said, but it didn't come out smug, she just sounded giddy. "I fucking told you so. A girl."

"A girl," Frank said back, turning the key. He had a feeling this was going to be the only conversation they would be having for a while.

***

"It's not natural," Jamia said, reading _The Filth_ on the couch. She had a bowl of Cheez-Its balanced very precisely on her belly. She'd been totally pleased with herself the day she'd found the position that let her have the perfect spot that would hold a bowl, or a candy bar, or sometimes she'd put her cup of orange juice on there for just a second while she turned a page.

"It's totally natural," Frank said. "Hence the name - _natural childbirth_."

"Hence you should _fuck off_ ," Jamia said, throwing a Cheez-It at him. 

"Did you even read the pamphlet?" Frank picked the Cheez-It off of his chest and ate it. "It's not that bad! It looks pretty simple. It's just breathing -"

"I know how to breathe," Jamia said, turning another page. 

"It's _breathing awareness_ ," Frank talked over her, "and progressive relaxation." 

Jamia sighed and tossed the book onto the coffee table. "Yeah, but I don't want to _do_ that." She gloomily ate the last of the Cheez-Its and was reaching for her juice on the table when she jumped, giving a little yelp. 

"Is she kicking?" Frank slid closer to Jamia on the couch, staring at her stomach. 

"Fuck," Jamia hissed out. "She's kicking _hard_. C'mere." She grabbed Frank's hand and put it on her belly. 

Frank held very still, barely breathing. "I don't feel anything," he said finally, looking up at Jamia anxiously. "Did I miss it?" 

She sat there with her head cocked, a faraway look in her eyes. "I guess so. She must have been turning over or something."

Frank took his hand away in disappointment.

Jamia shifted a little bit, then gasped. "Fuck, there she goes again!"

Frank put his hand back quickly, right where Jamia was pointing. He felt one tiny shift, but then nothing.

"Okay," Jamia said. "That's weird. I think -" She paused. "I don't know, I think she - your hand is super warm. It feels good to _me_ , so maybe it feels good to _her_?" 

Frank looked at her, wide-eyed. 

"I think she likes the heat," Jamia said. "I think you're calming her down."

"That is _so cool_ ," Frank breathed, staring down at his hand resting on Jamia. "It's like a super-power or something."

"It's exactly like a super-power." Jamia sat back. "No, don't move," she ordered, as Frank started to pull his hand back. "She was kicking really hard. I don't think she liked the Cheez-Its."

Frank scooted up beside Jamia, fitting himself between her and the back of the couch. He kept his hand on her belly, and she relaxed, slouching down against the cushions and tilting her head back to look at him. 

"What?" he said, feeling her breathing, his hand moving up and down slightly as she did.

"I don't want to be the sitcom lady breathing funny," Jamia confessed finally. "Lamaze looks stupid."

"Well," Frank said. "I mean, yeah, it does, but - it's you and me, right? We can look stupid together."

She cracked the tiniest of smiles. 

"Guys always look way stupider than the girls in Lamaze class on TV," Frank pointed out. 

"I guess," Jamia said, her mouth twitching. "You'd do the breathing, too?"

Frank shrugged. "It's my job, right?"

"It is," she said, studying him for a second. Finally, she blew out her breath in a gusty sigh. "Fine."

"Fine?" Frank asked.

" _Fine_ ," Jamia said again, testily. "Sign us up for motherfucking Lamaze, okay?"

"Okay," Frank said easily, still watching his hand on her stomach. The baby had stopped kicking, but he could feel her moving a little bit, the long slow shift inside there. He moved his hand a little, following it, and Jamia put her own hand over his, and followed along, too.

***

They had their first class scheduled for Thursday night. Frank was ready - in that way where he knew where the class was, and what time, but still had no fucking clue what to expect outside of what he'd seen on sitcoms - and Jamia was relatively agreeable about it, at least.

Gerard showed up on their doorstep on Wednesday night, guiltily crushing his cigarette under his boot and frantically waving the smoke away from him as Frank pushed the screen door to the porch open. "Sorry," Gerard said. "Hi. Sorry. Can I come in?"

Frank had been planning on just going the fuck to sleep after dinner - his head had been aching all day - but Gerard looked twitchier than usual, and his hair was a mess, so Frank just nodded and propped the screen door open with his foot as Gerard slipped in past him.

"I met someone," Gerard announced, letting his messenger bag fall to the floor with a thud. "Can I have a beer? Is that okay?" he said to Frank, and then to both of them, "I met a _girl_." 

He scrubbed both hands through his hair, which explained why it looked the way it did. His eyes looked bright and a little bit wild.

Frank went to the fridge and got two beers and poured a glass of orange juice while he was at it.

"Can you get me some juice?" Jamia called over her shoulder just as he came back into the room. 

Silently, he handed it to her over the back of the couch.

She grinned up at him. "Get that smug look off your face, fucker."

"She's an artist and she was in a rock band and I think I might be in love with her," Gerard burst out in a rush. He looked back and forth between the two of them. "What do I _do_?" he moaned, and sank down to his knees, dropping his head to the coffee table.

Frank looked at Jamia. "Uh," he said. "Here." 

When Gerard raised his head, looking miserable, Frank thrust the beer into Gerard's hand. His head was really pounding now. 

"And chill," Jamia said. "And tell us about the girl."

Frank sat down next to Jamia on the couch and they both looked at Gerard expectantly. Jamia was balancing her orange juice glass on her stomach, holding onto it with both hands. 

"I met her at this art show." Gerard was waving his hands around. "She's really amazing. She's so fucking smart. She talked to me. _She_ was the one who came up to _me_." He paused to take a gulp of beer. "I would have never gone up to her," he said breathlessly, wiping his mouth on his jacket sleeve. "But she talked to me about post-feminist ideals in artistic culture and she's got this _smile_ , and she kept smiling at _me_ , and oh, you guys, she had on this amazing red lipstick, and she never got it on her teeth." He looked back and forth between the two of them. "I _always_ get it on my teeth, especially when it's red."

Jamia nodded sympathetically. "Is she hot?

"So hot," Gerard breathed, his eyes going all glassy. "Not that physical attributes are as important to me as the intellectual and, let's face it, moral and ethical qualities, but -"

"Nice tits?" Jamia broke in.

" _Amazing_ tits," Gerard said reverently. 

"She sounds awesome." Jamia pushed her hair back out of her face, rearranging herself carefully on the couch, wincing. "She's on my _bladder_ this week," she muttered.

Frank took a sip of his beer, but it didn't taste right, and he frowned, and put it down on the table. 

"Did you get her number?" he asked.

"I slept with her," Gerard admitted. 

Frank looked over to where Jamia was staring at him, wide-eyed. "Jesus Christ, Gee," she said, sounding impressed. "When's the last time you hooked up with a girl?"

Gerard opened his mouth, then shut it, tilting his head at her and grinning a tiny bit. "Define 'hooked up,'" he said.

Jamia grinned widely at him, and Frank felt his face go hot. He had to clear his throat, which felt suddenly thick and clogged, before he could speak. "How did it go?"

"So fucking good," Gerard said, sounding dazed. "I don't even - I can't even -" 

He was waving his hands around again and he'd finished his beer. Frank nudged his own beer toward Gerard. "Here, finish this."

"Thanks!" Gerard said.

Jamia frowned over at Frank. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, shaking his head irritably, which just made his headache worse. "Did you call her after?"

Gerard took a while swallowing his beer. "Yeah," he said finally, fidgeting with the strap on his bag.

"How many times?" Jamia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh." Gerard had his head dropped down, hair in his face so they couldn't see it.

Frank groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. "How many," he demanded.

"Three?" Gerard said hesitantly. 

"That's not _too_ bad..." Jamia started. 

"But I texted her a few times, too," he added.

"Well," Frank started.

"And maybe drew a picture of her while she was sleeping and left it on her pillow where she'd find it after I left," Gerard said all in a rush, clutching Frank's beer. 

They both just looked at him.

"I know!" he wailed, setting the bottle down. "I know, I _know_ , okay, only it seemed like a good idea at the time!"

"Okay," Jamia said. "Look." 

Frank and Gerard both turned to her expectantly. 

"She took you home with her, right?" Jamia asked.

Gerard nodded shyly.

"And she slept with you, and it was good, right? Did she come?" Jamia leaned forward, but sat back immediately, wincing, and shifted her weight on the couch.

"Yeah," Gerard said. He thought about it. "Twice. Once during, and then again after when I ate her out." He looked up at Jamia.

"And you said she was an artist," Frank pointed out, his brain working slowly, but still, this seemed like it would be helpful. "So maybe she liked the creepy drawing you left her."

"Right?" Gerard said hopefully. "That's what she said, when she called."

"She called you back?" Frank's head was really hurting, making it hard to focus.

Gerard nodded.

"Did she actually use the word creepy?" Jamia asked. 

"Yeah, but she sounded like she thought that was cool." Gerard was still staring up at both of them, clutching at the edge of the coffee table.

"Then why are you freaking the fuck out?" Frank demanded, then coughed. He could feel Jamia looking over at him, but he just kept staring at Gerard. He was fine. "She clearly likes you!"

"I _know_." Gerard put his head on the table. "What do I _do_?"

Frank was going to say _stop being a dumbass_ , but he started to cough again. Jamia made a face at him, and he just shook his head.

Jamia sat silently until Frank got it mostly under control, only gasping for air a little bit. "You," she said, struggling to reach forward and tap on Gerard's head. Her stomach was in the way, though, and finally Frank just nudged Gerard with his foot. 

Gerard looked up, his face completely desperate. "What?" he said.

"You, bring this girl over. I want to meet her."

"Would you?" Gerard breathed. "I'm just such a fuck-up, J." He pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I'm one hundred percent certain she's going to harvest my organs." He looked up at them. "Or something." He paused. "And okay, I'm not _one hundred_ percent certain." He chewed on his lip. "More, like, seventy percent."

Jamia stared at him. "Bring her over," she said shortly. "And you." She turned on Frank, who quickly sat up straighter on the couch and tried to bring his eyes into focus. "Come here." 

Frank sighed and leaned forward, glaring at her as she put her hand against his forehead. He was fine.

"You're fucking sick," she said. "When did you start not feeling good? You know what?" She cut him off as he was opening his mouth to defend himself. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. You look like shit." She struggled to get up off the couch, finally giving up and snapping her fingers at Gerard, who was busily texting Lindsey, Frank was pretty sure. "Help me. No," she said, pointing at Frank, who had started to get up, because he was _fine_. "You stay put."

Gerard got up, coming over to grab Jamia's hands and brace himself, hauling her up off the couch. "Thank you," she said. "You'll be fine. What did she say?"

"Friday!" he said. "Can I bring her over on Friday?"

"Yes," Jamia said. "If this fucker hasn't died by then. Come on," she ordered Frank. "Drugs. Water. Bed. Now."

"I don't like you," Frank mumbled.

"I don't care," Jamia said impatiently. "C'mon."

She pushed him in front of her down the hall to their bedroom and made Gerard go get a glass of water from the kitchen, while Frank pulled his jeans off and crawled under the warm covers in just his t-shirt and underwear. "Here," she said, making him swallow some ibuprofen. 

She pulled the covers up over him, then pressed her hand against his forehead again. Her palm was cool against his hot skin. "Oh man," she said, sounding sympathetic. "Frank, I think you're fucked for a few days."

"Shut up," he said tiredly. He was pretty sure she was right. He'd had this same cold about four times in the past few months. "We've got Lamaze tomorrow." 

"Fuck," Jamia sighed. "We can skip it."

" _No_ ," Frank said, and - of course - started coughing again. 

Jamia scowled.

"I can go with you," Gerard offered, hovering in the doorway. 

Frank and Jamia both turned to look at him. 

"I watched a special on it on Discovery," he said stoutly. "I can help. It's just breathing analysis and progressive relaxation." He paused. "And they talked a lot about Kegel exercises, but I can't help you with that." He looked apologetic.

Jamia looked down at Frank questioningly.

"Fine." Frank curled up more tightly under the covers, hoping it would hide how he was shivering just a little. "Gee can be back-up. But I'll be okay. I just need to sleep."

"Mm-hmm." Jamia looked up at Gerard. "Seven tomorrow night."

"Seven." Gerard scooted into their room and grabbed a pen off of the dresser, scrawling the time on the back of his hand. "Got it."

***

"I can go," Frank said irritably, but it came out as a wheeze, and he started coughing again immediately, thick and disgusting. He'd woken up worse - his chest full, everything aching. He'd been determined to go to work ("No," said Jamia.) or at least to get up and get stuff done through the sickness - the crib they'd bought still needed to be assembled ("No," said Jamia.), but he'd felt so fuzzy-headed and dizzy every time he'd even sat up that he finally just slept most of the day, so he could make it to Lamaze.

"No," said Jamia.

"But -" Frank tried, still coughing.

"No," Jamia repeated, adding, not unkindly, "Dumbass. Gerard is here, he's going with me, it'll be fine."

"I haven't had a smoke in two hours," Gerard said proudly. "And I even changed my clothes, so I won't get smoke-smell all over her when I'm sitting behind her."

Frank gave him a weary look-over. He did look cleaner than usual. "I know. I just. I wanted -" He frowned, and rubbed his eyes, and coughed. The walk from the bed to the couch had made him dizzy. "Whatever." He waved a hand, trying really hard to catch his breath, but it kept sticking in his throat. 

"You'll go with me to the next one," Jamia pointed out. "We have a whole bunch. And you never learn anything good in a first class, anyway."

Frank coughed harder. 

"And it's all about breathing," Gerard said, watching Frank cough. "And you're not, you know, doing very good at that right now."

"Fucking fuck you," Frank wheezed. 

"I love you, Frankie," Gerard said worriedly. "I wouldn't let anything go wrong. I'll even _take notes_ , okay?" He dug into his hoodie pocket and then brandished a marker. "I'm on this."

***

Frank had grand plans of turning on the TV after they left and finding something to distract him from the fact that he was fucking missing their Lamaze class because of his stupid, shitty lungs. He slouched down on the couch and tucked his pillow under his head comfortably. The remote was on the table right near him and he was going to reach for it in just a second. The meds he took to clear his lungs never worked as fast as he wanted them to, and always made everything hazy and fucked-up. His eyes felt heavy and his breath was thick and raspy and even moving his arm seemed like too much work.

He let his eyes fall shut for what seemed like just a second, but he woke up to Gerard and Jamia stumbling in the door together, laughing. 

"What?" he said, pushing himself up on the couch, rubbing his eyes to try to clear them. "You're -"

"Hi." Jamia stood in the front hall, peering down around her belly as she toed her Chucks off, while Gerard hovered behind her. "Hey, you're not coughing! How are you feeling?"

"Okay," Frank managed, still trying to wake the fuck up. "How was it?"

"Uh, fine." Jamia blinked at him, a smile pasted on her face.

He narrowed his eyes. "How _was_ it?" 

"Uh," Gerard said, his eyes round and innocent over Jamia's shoulder. "Fine! We brought you pamphlets."

"We brought you pamphlets," Jamia repeated, and there was a catch in her voice, and her eyes were way too bright. "Here!" 

Frank flipped through the handful of pamphlets she thrust at him. "These look helpful."

Gerard and Jamia were both nodding and smiling at him.

"If I had, you know, a drinking problem, or a yeast infection, or, let's see -" He flipped one over. "Ah, or if I want to learn how to do a self-breast exam. Thanks, guys." He looked over at where they were both hovering by the couch, now looking at each other guiltily. He tossed the pamphlets on the coffee table. "Okay. What happened."

"Nothing," said Gerard faintly.

"It was great," said Jamia.

Frank rubbed his hand over his face, his stubble scratchy against his palms. He needed a shave. He needed a shower. He needed a _drink_. "Seriously. What happened."

"It wasn't our fault!" Gerard burst out. 

Jamia silenced him with a quick gesture, moving forward to the chair next to the couch. She lowered herself into it slowly, painfully - theatrically, Frank thought - finally settling down with a sigh. "Man, I'm tired," she said, yawning. "That takes a lot out of you."

Frank just looked at her. "Gee," he said, without looking away from Jamia. "Sit down."

Gerard scuttled in to the living room, nudging Frank's feet out of the way and curling up at the other end of the couch. He stared at Frank, wide-eyed. Frank could see that his hands, clenched in fists against his drawn-up knees, were smudged with black all up and down the sides. 

"It was great!" Jamia said brightly. "Just like you said - slow-measured breathing and...progressive -"

Gerard was mouthing something at her. Frank could _see him_ mouthing it at her.

"...re-runs," Jamia finished slowly. "Wait, that can't be right."

Frank pushed himself up, stifling a cough and staring stonily at both of them.

"It wasn't our fault," Gerard said again, his voice high. "The teacher was all weird and, like, serious."

"She was _so weird_ , Frank," Jamia said right on his heels. "She made us do _pelvic tilts_ , and -" Jamia started giggling a little bit. "And - oh fuck, ow." She pressed a hand to her stomach. "She's kicking, want to feel?"

Frank ignored that. "And?" he asked.

"And wall squats," Gerard said.

Jamia snorted, loudly, and Gerard grinned, and then they were both giggling. 

"It was really fucking funny, Frank," Gerard said. "A whole room of women sliding slowly down a wall, trying not to fall."

"The teacher was _clearly_ fucking with us," Jamia said hotly. "And besides, Gerard was the one who knocked over the pile of pillows."

"It wasn't my fault!" Gerard protested. "You pushed me!"

"And then," Jamia continued, "she wanted us to do this - oh God, what did she call it?" 

"Touch relaxation," Gerard said. He pressed his lips together, like he was going for a very serious expression. 

"Right." Jamia giggled, then snorted again. "Right, and I had to lie back on Gerard, like, like -"

She was laughing too hard to keep talking. Frank kept listening, grimly.

"Like, between my legs?" Gerard said. "You know, like in the movies? And it was fine -"

"It was great," Jamia said, nodding fervently. "And Gerard was supposed to be saying, like, calming things, and rubbing my stomach or whatever -"

"Only that got boring," Gerard said. "Like, real fast. And Jamia was getting cranky."

"I was," Jamia said, nodding solemnly, her mouth twitching.

"And I just wanted to distract her!" Gerard said.

"From the _labor pains_ ," Jamia added. 

"So -" Frank said, waiting, looking back and forth between the two of them.

"So..." Gerard said, wincing.

"So." Jamia sighed, and leaned back, hauling up the giant t-shirt she was wearing. 

Her belly was covered with - well - Frank tilted his head, trying to make it out. "Is that..." He tilted his head the other way. "Oh fuck, is it -"

"A zombie birthing scene," Gerard said. "It's upside-down, just 'cause I was doing it from behind her." He sounded apologetic.

Jamia was laughing so hard, her belly was shaking. No wonder Frank couldn't make it out. 

"That one zombie - is he _eating the baby_?" Frank's head was hurting again.

"The marker is hypoallergenic," Gerard said softly. "I checked."

"I'm pretty sure that isn't the problem," Frank said. He sighed, and coughed. "So then what happened?"

Jamia cleared her throat. "Uh," she said, shooting a look at Gerard. "Then we sort of, uh." She cleared her throat again. "Got kicked out."

Frank closed his eyes. "You got kicked out."

"Yeah," Jamia said.

"Of _Lamaze_ class," Frank said.

"Yeah," Gerard said glumly. 

" _He_ drew the zombies," Jamia said, pointing at Gerard over her zombie-bump.

" _She_ called the instructor a cunt," Gerard said, pointing at Jamia.

Frank looked at Jamia.

"Uh, yeah, that was me," she admitted. "What? I have pregnancy hormones. And trust me, that was _not_ that woman's first time being called a cunt."

Frank rubbed his hands over his face. "We're terrible at parenting already."

Jamia frowned. "We're awesome."

"You are," Gerard said earnestly. 

"I need a drink," Frank said.

"I'll get it!" Gerard leapt up from his end of the couch. 

"Uh-uh!" Jamia hauled herself up from the chair, her shirt still tugged up over her scrawled-upon stomach. "You're sick, no beer."

"Vodka, then?" Gerard peeked back in around the living room doorway. 

"No!" Jamia said. "Water. Or tea."

Frank made a face. "Vodka's medicinal," he explained. "It kills germs."

Gerard was nodding along earnestly. "And I don't know how to make tea."

Jamia paused, turning around on the couch to stare at Gerard. "Seriously? You stick a bag in boiling water. It's not rocket science." 

Gerard shrugged, looking sheepish. 

Jamia sighed and shook her head. "Whatever. Get him some water." Gerard disappeared back into the kitchen. "Now, you." She advanced on Frank. "You stay right there and get better or I'll sit on you." Jamia stood right over him, Frank in the shadow of her belly. 

"You wouldn't," Frank scoffed, then immediately regretted it, because - of course - she sat on him. And he couldn't even fight her, because he didn't want to hurt her, and she was _all baby_ , so all he could do was wrap his arms around her and try to haul her back so her full weight wasn't on his _stomach_. "Get off," he gasped, coughing, and struggled until he'd pulled her off of him, onto the couch, one arm, one leg, and most of his torso stuck under her, the rest of him hanging off of the couch.

"What are you -" Gerard came back in with a glass of water and stopped, studying the tableau on the couch. Jamia was on her back, belly sticking up, still scrawled with smeary zombies, laughing like crazy, her hair half over her face, and a triumphant look in her eyes. "Oh. I'm gonna go, I think."

"Don't!" Jamia struggled to sit up, sticking her elbow in Frank's _kidney_ , it felt like. "We can watch something."

Gerard blushed and he fidgeted with his phone. 

"Ahhhh," Jamia said. "She called?"

"Uh." Gerard glanced down at his phone again. "More like...sexted."

"Boobs or bush?" Jamia asked, as Frank peered around her stomach, interested. 

"Both," Gerard's face was really red now, but he was fighting a giant smile. "I - gotta go."

"Go, go." Jamia waved him off, and Gerard headed out, grinning shyly.

Jamia squirmed until Frank could fight his way out from under her. They sprawled there on the couch, legs entangled, Frank's blanket lost to the floor. "I think Gerard's got a girlfriend," she commented, when she'd caught her breath. Her face was very pink.

"I think you're right," Frank agreed. It was super strange. Frank really needed to meet this girl. Gerard was right - he was terrible at picking good people, but this one sounded like a keeper.

They sat there in silence, contemplating this turn of events. Finally, Jamia tilted her head to look at him. "Do you feel up to jerking off while I get myself off with a vibrator?"

Frank thought about it for a second. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I do."

She let him haul her off the couch and he followed her to the bedroom.

***

"Hi!" said Gerard brightly when Frank opened the door on Friday night. "We're here! This is Lindsey! She drove! I brought you this!" He shoved a bottle of orange juice into Frank's hand, pushing past him in the doorway, leaving him to introduce himself to the woman grinning on the porch behind Gerard.

"I'm Lindsey," she said, sticking out one hand. "I think he's nervous or something."

"I'm gonna puke," Frank heard Gerard say in a stage-whisper to Jamia in the front hall.

"C'mon in," Frank said, shaking Lindsey's hand. "Nice to meet you."

She came in and Frank turned to watch her, then caught Jamia's eyes, raising his eyebrows. Lindsey was fucking _hot_. Dark hair, pale skin, and a blowjob mouth, her lips dark red and damn sexy. 

Jamia was making the same eyes at Frank, all, _Gerard did good_. "I'm Jamia," she said, shaking Lindsey's hand. "Do you want something to drink? I think he needs something to drink."

"I really do," Gerard said fervently. He was sweating and acting weirder than usual.

"Go with Frank," Jamia said. "Lindsey, come sit down while these two go handle things in the kitchen." 

"You want a beer?" Gerard asked Lindsey. "I'll get you a beer."

Lindsey nodded, looking amused. 

Man, she had amazing cheekbones. Frank dragged Gerard behind him to the kitchen. 

"Gee," he said, as Gerard sagged back against the kitchen counter, scrubbing his hands over his face. "She's really hot."

"I know," Gerard said, looking at Frank from between his fingers. "I know, I know, and she's so fucking cool." He accepted a beer from Frank, drinking half of it in three quick swallows. "I mean, not cool, like, _cool_." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "She reads comic books, and she likes Metallica, and she likes _me_ and just - Frank." Gerard reached out and caught Frank's hand desperately. "I think I'm in love with her. Like. _Seriously_."

"Have you told her that?" Frank asked cautiously.

"Of course." Gerard made an impatient motion with his hand. 

"Gerard," Frank groaned. "We've talked about this."

"I know," Gerard said. "I know, but - " He gestured pointedly towards the living room, eyebrows up, eyes wide.

"Okay, yeah," Frank relented. Frank didn't trust her yet. He wanted to, he did, but this was so fucking sudden - Gerard had been playing it so close to the vest ever since Pedicone broke his fucking heart. Frank knew that Gerard liked girls as well as boys - Gerard had always made that clear - but Frank had never in his entire time of being friends with Gerard actually seen him _with_ a girl.

Other than that one time with Jamia. But that had been special circumstances. This was - different.

"We've been together every night this week," Gerard continued, his eyes shining. He put his beer down on the counter. "We didn't even make it out of the _house_ yesterday. We just watched the whole first season of _The L Word_ and fucked." He was looking at Frank, and his mouth was hooking up in this sideways smile, like he literally couldn't contain it. "Frank," he said reverently. "She's just -" He stopped, waving his hands around. "You know?"

"I know." Frank did. He looked at Gerard as he sipped his beer. "C'mon," he said finally. "Introduce me to your girl for real."

Frank trailed behind Gerard to the living room, his beer in one hand and juice for Jamia in the other.

Jamia and Lindsey were on the couch together. Lindsey had her shoes off, bare feet curled up underneath her, her arms around her knees. She was facing Jamia where she sat in the corner of the couch, a pillow tucked behind her back (it had been hurting her all week), her feet propped up on a pillow on the table. 

"How long have you been working there?" Lindsey asked with interest. 

"Seven years now." Jamia accepted the glass of juice from Frank, taking a sip before continuing. "It's a pretty sweet gig. We just signed a new band that I think is gonna kick ass, live."

"I used to be in a band, before I started focusing more on art," Lindsey said. 

Frank sat down in the easy chair near Jamia, while Gerard sat next to Lindsey on the couch, his beer clutched in what Frank was sure were sweaty hands. 

"Yeah? What sort of band?" Jamia took a sip of the juice and shifted a little, wincing. 

Lindsey flashed a brilliant smile, and it transformed her whole face, taking it from pretty to, like, opened up and a little dorky. It made Frank like her even more. "It was a Dolly Parton cover band," she said, taking a sip of beer. "Called 'Beg Your Parton.'"

Jamia giggled into her juice, while Gerard stared at Lindsey with a look of utter adoration. "How _cool_ is that?" he breathed.

Lindsey shook her head - her long dark hair was up in messy pigtails, and she laughed, her mouth wide. "It really, really wasn't."

"I love it," Gerard said, his voice open and sincere. 

Lindsey laughed again, and moved back a little, pressing against Gerard's side. "That's 'cause you're a dork, too."

"Yeah," Gerard said, putting his beer down on the table. He slid his arm around Lindsey's back, like he couldn't help it, couldn't help touching her.

"Gee's brother works there, too, right?" Lindsey asked Jamia.

It was so fucking weird hearing this girl who they barely knew call him that. Frank couldn't stop looking at Gerard's fingers, where they curled around Lindsey's side. 

"Have you met Mikey?" Frank asked curiously. He'd have to text Mikey later, find out what he thought.

"Yeah," Lindsey said. "He's _awesome_."

"He is totally awesome," Gerard said. He looked up at Frank, just _beaming_ , because _she likes Mikey_ , he mouthed. 

Of course she liked Mikey. You'd have to be a douchebag to not like Mikey and Frank was beginning to suspect that Lindsey was not, in fact, a douchebag.

"What about you guys?" Lindsey asked curiously. "Gerard talks about you all the time. He says you saved his life."

Frank shifted uncomfortably. "Gerard likes to exaggerate."

"A _lot_ ," Jamia seconded. 

Gerard snuggled closer to Lindsey. "They totally saved my life," he said against her shoulder. "I told you." 

His beer was on the table, forgotten, and his eyes were clear and bright. He had put on his eye make-up carefully, Frank could tell - Gerard was into this bruised look lately, all smudged eyeliner and carefully worked-in reddish-brown shadow edging out over past his eyes. His hair was a couple of days past clean, but Lindsey didn't seem to mind it, as she pressed up against him. 

"We put up with him," Frank said, taking a long sip of beer. "It's been so many years, we're sort of stuck with him."

"They love me," Gerard said, his voice full of certainty. "They're my best friends."

"That's right, princess," Jamia said. "Look at you, how could we not?"

Lindsey grinned, looking back over her shoulder at Gerard, like she was taking the question seriously. The sheer happiness on her face radiated out.

Frank caught Jamia’s eye for a second. She raised one eyebrow – she liked Lindsey, too. Good. 

The doorbell rang, and Frank got up. “Pizza’s here.”

Lindsey got up, tugging Gerard up after her. Gerard gave Jamia and Frank a look over Lindsey’s shoulder, all worried-eyed. Frank squeezed his shoulder as he went by - _you’re good, she’s great_ \- and Gerard let out his breath in an audible sigh of relief.

They ate at Jamia and Frank's dining room table, like they were adults or something. It felt right, though, sitting there laughing around the table; it felt _easy_ , simple. Afterward, the table was scattered with the remains of the pizza and scraps of paper from Gerard's sketchbook, covered in doodles of Lindsey's smile, Lindsey's pigtails, and the curve of Jamia's stomach, Frank's tattooed hand curled protectively over it.

Frank folded that one up and stuck it in his pocket when no one was looking. 

After his fourth beer Frank caught himself rambling on about the baby and the crib and the way they'd decorated the room ("Gender neutral," Gerard added proudly.), and how big the baby was now, and how long to go, and maybe a little bit about how nervous he was about this whole thing. 

"Because parents fuck up," Frank said, taking another sip. "They do, they just do, there's no avoiding that."

"But you guys are clearly awesome," Lindsey said firmly. "You're going to give her space to be her own person, you're going to raise her _right_. She's going to love you."

"Right," Frank said uncertainly. 

" _Right_ ," said Gerard, looking at Lindsey with his whole heart in his eyes. 

"Do you need to be cut off?" Jamia asked Frank, rolling her eyes, but she pressed her foot against him underneath the table. 

It was on the early side when they wrapped up, but that was only because Jamia couldn't stop apologetically yawning. "It's not you," she said. "It's the kid."

"No worries at all." Lindsey was scooping up empties from the table, and Gerard leaped up to help her, stacking plates. "We got this."

They headed into the kitchen with the stuff, and Frank looked at Jamia. 

"I like her," she said sleepily, resting her head on his shoulder. He rubbed her thigh, where it was warm and soft. "She's the real deal."

"I think I like her, too." Frank stopped, taking a sip of beer, trying to arrange the words in his head. "I just - I liked Pedicone, too," he said. It had taken a long time before he'd been able to stay that name without a resounding flash of anger. "So maybe my opinion isn't the greatest."

"Your opinion is solid," Jamia said. "You can't plan for douchebags."

"I always plan for douchebags," Frank said, kissing the top of her head.

"She's good," Jamia said firmly, yawning again. "Oh God, I've gotta go to bed."

Frank got up to get Gerard and Lindsey, while Jamia headed to the bathroom one more time. 

He paused half in the doorway of the kitchen. Gerard had Lindsey pressed up against the counter. Her arms were looped around his neck, like in an old movie, her bare feet braced on either side of his booted ones as they kissed. It wasn't rough and dirty, it was this slow, soft, intimate thing, and Frank had to back out of the room for a second, blinking, before he came back in more noisily. 

They pulled apart slowly, even then. Gerard looked like he'd been hit in the face by a shovel. A gorgeous shovel. That he was in love with. "Hey," he said. "I, uh - we're going to take off."

"Let the lady get some sleep," Lindsey added. 

They said goodbye in the front hallway, Lindsey zipping her boots on, the heels making her taller than Gerard. "It was so great to meet you guys," she said, sounding absolutely sincere. She grabbed Jamia's hands, pulling her in for a kiss on the cheek, and Jamia leaned right back in, like she didn't mind. "Get some sleep," she said.

"Don't worry, I will," Jamia laughed. 

Lindsey kissed Frank on the cheek, too, while Gerard was hugging Jamia close. Lindsey watched as he leaned down to murmur something to her belly, the way he did every time. "I'm going to go have a smoke," she said to him, grinning at Jamia over Gerard's bent head. "Thank you again! Meet you outside, Gee?"

Gerard nodded, beaming at her, still talking softly to the baby, and Lindsey headed out. When Gerard stood back up, Jamia was looking at him, her eyes bright. "I like her," she said softly. "You're good."

Gerard's eyes got bright, too, and he hugged Jamia again. "Thank you," he said against her ear.

Frank accepted Gerard's hug as he turned from Jamia. "She's right," he said. "You're good."

Gerard made a sound in his throat and clung to Frank more tightly. "You guys," he said. "I love you."

"Go home," Jamia demanded, pushing him away from Frank. 

Gerard stumbled back, his smile wide and happy. "We are," he said. "Thank you, guys."

Jamia leaned against the door after she closed it. 

Frank looked at her. 

"Shut up," she said, scrubbing roughly at her eyes. "I wasn't crying, it was - hormones." She patted her stomach. "It was the kid."

"Uh-huh," Frank said, tugging her off the door. "Let's get you two to bed."

"He's gonna marry her," Jamia said quietly, slipping her arm around Frank as they went down the hall. 

"You think?" Frank said, startled by the thought of Gerard doing something so completely - normal. 

"I know," Jamia said.

***

They day that they finally, _finally_ got the crib put together, they were both so exhausted afterward that they collapsed into bed, on top of the covers, the window across the room open a crack, letting in the breeze. The light had already changed when Frank woke up, late afternoon sunlight coming in, and the whole room was quiet and warm and smelled like spring.

Jamia was curled up facing away from him, and he pushed himself up on his elbow to peer over her, to see where her stomach was resting on the bed. Seven months was so close, but they still had so long to _go_. Frank sometimes couldn't figure out how she was going to carry that baby around for another couple of months, or how he was going to make it through so many more weeks before he got to meet their girl.

He knew he should let her sleep, but he couldn't help but run his hand over her side and down her stomach, tracing the girth of it with his fingers. She mumbled sleepily and he shifted, tucking his pillow under his arm so he was pushed up and could reach around her. He lay the flat of his hand against the roundest part of her stomach. He could feel how warm she was through her t-shirt and he couldn't help it, he had to push his hand up under the loose maternity top she was wearing (her pants had been left behind somewhere on the floor next to the bed). 

He pressed his hand against the bare skin of her belly. It felt hotter than the rest of her.

Jamia made a contented noise in her throat, and shifted back against him a little. "What are you doing?" Her voice came out sleepy and throaty, and Frank's dick started getting hard.

"Just -" He moved closer to her, a little, still pressing his hand against her. "I don't know, you're so -" He stopped. _Hot. Interesting. Perfect._

"Big?" she finished for him, yawning. She stretched, wiggling against him, her hand tracing down over her stomach to rest on his. "I'm so huge, I can't even see my own belly button."

He grinned against her neck, moving his hand down a little, tracing over the lower curve of her belly and back up. "I like it," he said.

"Yeah?" she said, following his fingers down with her own hand.

"Yeah." He shifted forward, pressing up against her, his fingers tracing the elastic of her panties.

"Oh," she said, sounding amused. "Oh, I see." She wriggled back against him, and he caught his breath, letting just the tips of his fingers slip into her panties.

"I'm not even awake yet," she said, yawning again, but she was still pressed against him, soft and pliant, her voice sleepy and warm. 

"Huh," said Frank, moving his hand out of her panties. She sighed softly, and he ran his fingers up, pushing the loose shirt up and out of the way as he did it. Her breasts were soft, huge, and when he gently let his fingertips trace across them, he found her nipples were seriously hard. "Your tits aren't asleep."

She laughed, reaching back to smack at him lightly. 

He shifted, tucking another pillow under his head so he could look over her shoulder. Her breasts were full, and flushed. He ran his fingers over her nipples again, and she shuddered, just a little, drawing in a small, sharp breath.

He smiled. "You just lie there," he said. "You keep napping. I'm just gonna -" He moved his hand back down her body slowly, slowly. His dick was fully hard now, pressing up against her, but he wasn't focusing on that, he was just fascinated by her body under his hand. "I'm just -" He got back down to her panties, under the curve of her belly, and slipped his fingers inside. It was hot in there, and when he slid his fingers over her bush, it was damp already. He let himself just trace over it slowly, teasing, and Jamia moaned again, just a tiny bit, moving back against him.

Frank bit his lip, concentrating as he slid two fingers down over her clit. Jamia gasped, loud, reaching back with one hand to grab his hip. Frank stroked her, going slowly, not quite teasing, but letting it build. Jamia was panting lightly now, her belly a soft weight against Frank's wrist, and she was squeezing his hip with her hand as she rocked back against him. His dick was against her ass, and he was so fucking _into_ this that it felt far away, like the only thing that mattered was the slick slide of her clit under his fingers. 

"Ah," Jamia panted, moving her hips a little, and God, he was so into that, he was _so into that_ , the pressure against his cock, not _quite_ enough, but close. "Ah, _ah_ , I -" She wriggled against him, her head dropping forward, the space under her stomach damp with sweat. "I -"

She was close, he could feel it, in the tension of her whole body, in how wet his hand was getting, in the tightness of her thighs. Just a little - bit - more - 

"Fucking _there_ , yes, Jesus _fuck_. Don’t stop, motherfucker or I'll - I'll -" She doubled up over herself, cursing like a sailor and turning him on even harder. He loved all of it - her filthy mouth, her dripping cunt, and her beautiful fucking body just trembling against him as she came against his fingers. He hadn't even gotten to put them inside her. 

Frank wanted her so bad, he could barely breathe. He stroked her through it, until she pushed his hand away, her voice shaking as she said, "Fuck me, Jesus, Frank, fucking _do_ it. I need - I need you to -"

His hands were unsteady as he struggled to shove his sweatpants down his hips, his cock feeling huge and looking like fucking porn, standing out so hard. Jesus, he needed this.

Jamia was struggling with her panties, finally getting them down, and kicking them off her feet awkwardly. "Please," she panted, angling herself forward on her side, bracing both hands against the bed. "Please, fucking - I need you to fuck me, _fuck_ , Frank, I -"

She sounded really desperate, and Frank had his hand wrapped around his dick. "I -" He had to stop, swallow. "I don't know how long I can last, fuck, _fuck_ , so fucking hot for you, I -"

"Do it, fuck." She was pushing back against him, panting hard. "Lose it, fuck, I want to feel it, I gotta - Frank, you've gotta -"

Frank planted his hand on her hip and slid down far enough that he could get the angle, fuck, yeah, _fuck_. Her cunt was hot against his dick as he slid in, Jesus, hot and slick and he just pushed inside her, couldn't stop his hips from just thrusting in. The angle kept it shallow, but Jesus God, she felt perfect around his dick. He was basically sobbing out his breaths as he fucked her, his whole world centered around his dick in her cunt, his hand on her belly, her panted curses as she took him in. 

"J," he ground out, shifting his hand to her hip for better leverage. "Fuck, J, I'm -" He tried to hold on, so fucking hard, driving into her again, and again, everything so good and hot and wet and slippery.

"Do it, fucking _come_ , I want you to. I want to feel it, come on, come _on_." Jamia's voice was throaty, lost, like she could barely get the words out.

Frank moaned loud his throat hurt and clung to her hip, thrust into her again, and again, and - "Oh God, oh fuck, oh _God_ -" He came, all the way inside her, clinging to her and trembling, holding himself in there deep as he could as he shuddered against her. 

"Jesus," he said, finally, when he shifted the tiniest bit and slipped out, way too soon. "Fucking...fuck."

"That was fucking amazing," Jamia murmured against the pillow, her hair over her face, her entire body limp and spent.

"That was, like, three minutes," Frank said, half panting, half laughing. His entire body was still tingling. 

"Amazing," Jamia mumbled again, sincerely.

Frank managed to roll onto his back, finally, sprawling beside her. He lay there, sweating, panting, trying to get his body to work again. Jamia finally - slowly, and with a lot of groaning - turned over. It was a project, and she did it in stages - from her side to her back, slowly, slowly, and then a long, slow turn to her other side. Her stomach was firm up against him, but he managed to get her head on his shoulder. He pushed her hair out of her eyes with one hand, and she murmured sleepily against his chest.

***

The baby shower was organized by Jamia's closest cousins. They knew her well enough to have it in a bar.

"No stupid games," Jamia warned when she and Frank got there. 

Her cousin Joanna gave her a reproachful look. "What, you don't want to play the melted-candy-bars-in-diapers game?" 

Jamia raised one eyebrow, half-turning back towards the door. 

Her cousins all broke into laughter, blocking her path. "No stupid games," Joanna promised, her arm around Jamia's shoulders as she guided her through the crowd of family and friends, most of them with drinks in their hands. "Who do you think I am?"

"Thank fuck," Jamia said grimly. "I didn't want to do this in the first place, you know."

" _We_ wanted to do it." It was her best friend Nancy, rolling up to them with a beer in one hand and an orange juice with a fancy straw in the other. "So shut the fuck up. Hey," she added, leaning in to kiss Frank's cheek. "Your mom's over there, by the presents. She says you're late, so you better go suck up to her."

"It's not my fault," Frank grumbled, ducking behind Joanna before his mom spotted him. "Pregnant McPeesALot here took forever to get out the door."

Jamia did, in fact, nail him in the shin with her boot for that one as Nancy pulled her further into the crowd, pressing the glass of OJ into her hand.

Frank sighed, and went to schmooze his mom.

As promised, there were no stupid fucking games. Jo and Nan did hand out sheets for Baby Shower Bingo when it was time to open gifts, while Jamia shot them a look. 

"Mark a box and do a shot every time you hear one of these words," Nan yelled out. "Double up for the pregnant lady every time you hear 'breastfeed.""

Frank could see the guys - Gerard and Mikey and Ray - clustered together in the back of the room. They were all standing back from the family, but they looked like they were doing okay.

Everyone raised a glass, and Jamia grinned up at her friends and squeezed Frank's hand where he stood behind her, eying the truly insane amount of gifts they had to go through. 

"We have too many cousins," he murmured in her ear. "We're going to be here 'til next Thursday opening presents."

"Let's just hope that big one is the Maclaren stroller," Jamia muttered back. 

It wasn't as bad as Frank had thought it would be. The gifts did take a fucking while, but the shots game helped, and their families filled the whole fucking bar, beaming at them as they opened things. Jo and Nan kept it moving right along, swooping in with wrapped gifts, and deftly scooping them back up after they were unwrapped, setting them aside to be transported home. It really was a well-oiled machine, which is what Frank told Joanna later, when they were up at the bar getting a new round of drinks. 

"I've done this kind of a lot," Joanna said. She was seriously tall, head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd, taller than anyone else in Jamia's family, and _definitely_ anyone in Frank's.

Frank, himself, was at about eye-level with her breasts and his neck hurt a little bit from tilting _up_ for eye contact. 

"Jamia's my favorite cousin," she said sternly. She'd had a shot or two herself, once the gifts were done and her portion of making things run smoothly was over. "I like you," she continued. "You make her happy."

"I -" Frank started. 

"Just don't fuck this up," Joanna continued. "Kids are hard. The first one can be real hard. Are you ready for it?"

"I -" Frank said again. 

"You _think_ you're ready, but you have no fucking idea." Joanna could be kind of a steamroller when she got going. The bartender brought over a beer for Frank - only his second, he knew he had to get all those gifts in the car and home - and a shot for Joanna. She did it, staring at Frank, while he nervously sipped his beer. "It's a lot of work."

"I know," Frank said, and kept talking when Joanna raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth. "Look, Jo, you've known me, what, five years at this point?"

She nodded, eying him. 

"I love her," he said firmly. "I love her so fucking much, and I love that kid, and every time I even _think_ about the fact that that kid is _ours_ and we get to do this, that I get to do this _with her_ , I just -" He cut himself off, taking a gulp of beer. He was glad the bar was a little dim. 

Joanna's eyes softened, a little, and she pulled him into a rough hug. "Okay," she said, shoving him back and gripping his shoulders so tight he winced a little. "Okay, Frankie." She ruffled his hair, and he shoved her hand away, grinning. "Get a haircut, hippie," she said, smiling wide, and turning back to the party. "All right," she yelled at the crowd of guests. "Who wants to play 'guess how big Jamia's belly is'? Someone find a tape measure."

"I will fuck you up," Jamia shouted back, from where she was standing with her mom _and_ with Frank's mom, both of whom currently had their hands on her belly, deep in conversation with each other.

"Fine, fine." Nancy came up beside her, slipping a hand around her back and easily tugging her away from the moms, both of whom just beamed at her. "How about you come cut the cake, lady?"

"That," said Jamia. "I can do. Gimme that knife."

Everyone cheered and Joanna shoved Frank forward. He stumbled toward Jamia and the table with the cake on it - it was a sheet cake, made by Jamia's uncle, who was a baker, decorated with punk-rock babies throwing up devil horns. Jamia grinned at him and he kissed her, and didn't care about the whoops and cheers than came from their family. "Your cousin's a little scary sometimes," he murmured against her lips.

"You know it," she whispered back. "Now let's cut this thing, because if I don't get some cake soon, I'm gonna lose it."

"Way to live up to the stereotype," he teased, poking her stomach.

"I _will_ cut you," she said, wielding the knife. 

He stood back, hands raised, as she sliced deftly through the cake instead.

***

"What are you going to call her?" Gerard asked, doing that creepy thing where he sat at the end of the couch, one leg drawn up, arms wrapped around it, and just stared at Jamia's belly. Frank noticed that Lindsey kept poking him to stop it, but Gerard had, apparently, stopped paying attention to that a while ago.

"We don't know," Jamia said.

This was a conversation they'd been having on a daily basis for, oh. Eight months now. 

"Chloe," Frank tried.

"Chloe is too hipster," Jamia said, waving her hand dismissively.

" _Zoe_ is hipster," Mikey said, flipping a page from this week's _Entertainment Weekly_ and squinting at it through the glasses he wore occasionally, but no longer needed. "Chloe is cool."

Gerard didn't even look up, staring intently at Jamia's stomach. "Martha?" he said. Then, firmly, "Charlotte." He looked up at Jamia. "I'm super into classic names," he said. "They have staying power. Or something. Besides, with Charlotte, you have her name in a book."

" _Charlotte's Web_ is really fucking sad, though," Mikey said, putting the magazine down and pushing up his fake hipster glasses with the back of one hand.

"And the spider thing freaks me out," Frank said, shuddering a little. Ugh. 

"Too bad," Gerard said wistfully. "It's an awesome name."

"Veronica," Lindsey suggested, looking up. 

"As in Elvis Costello?" Mikey asked.

"Like Veronica Mars?" Gerard said, gazing at Lindsey adoringly.

Jamia sighed. "Never mind. Too pop culture."

"What about Emma?" Ray said. Frank didn't even know he'd been listening. He'd just tuned his guitar and had been working on chords in the corner for, like, an hour. 

They all looked over at him. Ray looked up from his guitar, saw them, and blushed. "What," he said. "It's got that classic feel, without the hipster vibe. No offense," he said to Mikey.

"None taken," Mikey shrugged. 

"Emma," Jamia said, eyebrow up, looking at Frank. "Emma Iero." They'd already talked about the last name thing, and Jamia wanted the kid to have Frank's last name.

"Emma Iero," Frank repeated, trying it out. He kind of liked it.

"Emma," Gerard said, leaning forward, looking up at Jamia for permission before pressing his hand against her stomach. They all watched for a handful of seconds, like they were waiting for her to chime in or something.

After a minute, Gerard looked up. "She didn't kick," he said. "That means she likes it, right?"

Frank was staring at Gerard's hand on Jamia's belly. "I think so," he said, slowly, because - he didn't know. It felt right. He looked up. "J?"

Jamia nudged Gerard's hand out of the way, pressing the palm of her own hand to her stomach. "Let's let her think about it," she said, softly.

"Yeah," said Frank. _Emma_.

"Yeah," said Gerard, leaning back against Lindsey and gnawing on his thumbnail as he studied Jamia's belly.

"Emma," said Mikey, leaning forward and stealing Gerard's iPod out of his bag.

Ray just looked quietly pleased, and continued the soft tune he'd been working on.

***

Frank was barely half-awake, not even sure what was going on, only that Jamia was tugging on his arm. "Roll over, fucker," she murmured.

Frank grumbled sleepily, flopping over closer to her. The room was pitch-black - it had to be the middle of the night. Jamia pulled his hand over to her stomach, holding it there as she snuggled further under the covers. "She's kicking like crazy," she said through a yawn. "It's making me nuts."

Frank felt a couple of kicks under his palm, then nothing, just the roundness of Jamia's belly, warm under his hand. His hand there almost always calmed the baby down, made her stop kicking. It was cool, but a little disappointing - he almost never got to feel her kick. 

He was a little more awake now, though Jamia was out like a light again, snoring softly. Frank tried to settle down, too - it was so late, even the sounds of the city outside their window had quieted down - and he was warm and comfortable. Jamia curled up against him made him feel - he didn't even know. Safe, or something. 

He closed his eyes, trying to settle in, keeping his hand on J's belly. He felt, suddenly, that long, slow shift under his hand, and jeez, that was so fucking weird, the kid turning over in there, he could _feel_ it. Like, she was almost cooked now, almost done, pretty much a _person_. What had started as a night of fucking that Frank didn't actually remember - they had never been able to pin down when it actually happened, though they'd narrowed it down to three possibilities - or as a PREGNANT sign on a pee stick was now, like, a person in there. 

That was beyond anything he'd ever really been able to process. Like, this whole time, it had been there, in the back of his mind, what it was they were doing, planning for, setting up for, getting _ready_ for, and - he thought he was ready. He did. Or, he had. Now, though, it all seemed so completely insane he couldn't even really catch his breath. 

He lay there, staring at the back of Jamia's head in the dark. It wasn't that he was scared. Or, well, okay, he _was_ , but it wasn't about doing this with Jamia. He could do anything with her. He _knew_ they could do it, but - there were so many things that could go wrong, so much that he wanted to do _right_. It wasn't just about their little girl rolling over inside Jamia right now. It was about _them_ , the three of them, being a family. A motherfucking _family_. 

Jamia shifted a little beside him, then groaned, rolling over onto her back and pushing herself up to sitting. She looked sleepily at Frank, who also pushed himself up on one arm beside her. "What are you doing?" she asked, sounding confused. "Why are you awake?"

Her hair was getting long, down below her shoulders now, and it was a mess, her bangs sticking upd. She looked half-asleep, her eyes barely open.

Frank loved her so much he could barely breathe. "Jamia," he said. "Will you marry me?"

Jamia blinked. "I have to pee." She blinked again. "Wait, _what_?"

"Will you marry me?" Frank said again, sitting up a little bit more and reaching for her hand. Fuck. He didn't have the motherfucking _ring_. His mom had been telling him to take his grandmother's goddamn ring for a year now, but he kept saying no, that this wasn't their thing. "Fuck. I have a ring, but not here. Fuck, I'm sorry. But will you?"

Jamia's mouth was open and she was staring down at their hands now, then back up at him. "I -" She stopped, shook her head. "I really have to pee. Hang on, okay?"

"Seriously?" he complained, getting up and coming around to her side of the bed. She'd just managed to get her feet on the floor by the time he got there and she took his hands when he held them out, letting him haul her to her feet. "That's your answer?"

Jamia waved her hands over her head as she made her way down the dark hall. "Do you want me to pee myself?" she demanded. "Because I will. Trust me."

He trailed down the hall after her as she hurried to the bathroom, following her in. He leaned against the sink with his arms crossed over his chest as she pushed her pants down and sat on the toilet. He sighed and picked at his thumbnail, watching her as he waited for her to pee. 

"If you stare at me," Jamia said. "It'll take longer."

"Sorry." He sighed again. "Want me to wait outside?"

"That would be good."

"Fine." He left, leaning up against the wall outside the door as he waited. Jamia peed for a long time. She'd really had to go. He guessed that was as good an excuse as any for not _answering his marriage proposal_. He finally heard the flush of the toilet, then the water running, and then finally Jamia appeared in the doorway, backlit by the fluorescent light of the bathroom. 

"Are you serious?" she demanded. 

"Yeah," he said, looking at her. The shirt she was wearing barely contained her and she had on this pair of sweatpants that were huge and loose and had rolled up one of her legs as she slept. "Fuck, yeah."

"You're motherfucking serious with this," Jamia said. She sounded - not quite angry, but definitely wound up. 

Frank nodded slowly. 

"It's three AM," she said. "I'm eight and a half months pregnant. You don't surprise a tired, pregnant woman, Frank. It's just not a good idea."

"But?" he said, waiting. Everything inside him was bubbling up. She was full of shit. This was his _best_ idea. 

"But?" She stared at him, pushing her hands through her hair, shoving it back out of her face wildly. "But, well, of _course_ I want to marry you, you idiot."

Frank beamed, and got down on one knee, grabbing for her hand again. 

She was cracking up now. "You're doing it backwards!"

"Fuck backwards!" Frank said. "I make my own rules! Give me your goddamn hand!"

She kept pulling her hand away, laughing so hard she had to grab the wall for support. "Stop it, you asshole, hang on, oh my God, let me just -"

Frank didn't care. He grabbed her hand determinedly, and hung on to it, looking up at her, then scooting back a little bit so he could actually see her face over her belly. "Say yes," he demanded.

"I _said_ yes," she said, grinning wide, her eyes bright. 

"You said you wanted to, you never actually said the word _yes_." Frank stared up at her. "Say it, I want to hear it."

She laughed. "Yes." She had one hand on her stomach, the other hand was between Frank's, and he was kneeling in their hallway in the middle of the night and he was pretty sure he'd never been happier in his goddamn life. "Yes, okay, you fucker? Yes." She said all of that soft, and sweet, and he grinned and squeezed her hand, and got to his feet, because he had to fucking kiss her. 

"You know marriage is just a social construct, right?" she said between kisses. "We were going to be a family no matter what."

Frank knew that, he _did_ , he got it. He didn't want anyone telling him what they had to do or not do to be a family, but he wanted to be her goddamn husband in any and every way that he could. "I know," he said, kissing her again. "I know, but this is you and me, and her." He put one hand on the side of Jamia's belly. "I don't give a fuck what anyone else thinks, but I want you to marry me."

Jamia kissed his mouth firmly. "Yes," she said again. She paused, pulling back to look at him. "Man, our parents are going to be so fucking happy with us."

"Oh God," Frank groaned, dropping his forehead to her shoulder. "I'm never going to hear the end of it. My mom's going to think I'm doing this for her."

" _My_ mom's going to think you finally saw the light," Jamia said, grinning. "My dad will just be sad he's going to have to stop telling me he's going to kick your ass for not making an honest woman out of me."

"An honest woman?" Frank asked. "Seriously? He's seen you, right? He knows you can take me."

"I can totally take you," Jamia said, giggling. "He just likes to protect me."

"Seriously," Frank said, as it finally hit him. "This will make our parents _so happy_. Oh God. Can I take it back? I'm not sure I can deal with the smugness."

Jamia giggled harder. "Sure, take it back, see how that goes for you," she said. 

Frank shook his head hard and held onto her tightly. "No backsies," he said.

She laughed harder, then said, "Oh fuck, oh _fuck_ , stop it, you're making me pee." 

Frank was laughing so hard his stomach hurt, as Jamia's eyes got wide and she tore away from him and made for the bathroom as fast as she could. 

"Shut up," she yelled at him. "See how well you'd do if you had a kid sitting on your bladder, asshole!" 

"I made you pee!" Frank yelled after her, sliding down the wall to the floor, he was laughing so hard. "Now you _have_ to marry me!"

"You've got a weird definition of commitment," Jamia yelled back.

"You love it!" Frank shouted.

"You know it," Jamia called back. 

He could hear her giggling and peeing at the same time. He leaned his head back against the wall and took a deep breath. “She wants to marry me,” he whispered, and grinned so wide his cheeks hurt.

***

"No, it's this new band we just signed," Jamia told Ray. "Or, well, I'm supposed to be on leave - even though I'm clearly _never having this baby_ -" She said that part with a glare at Frank, who held his hands up, looking apologetic even though it was _not his fault_. "But Mikey saw them the other night."

Mikey was on the couch, his bony legs curled up under him. Gerard was nursing a hangover, his head resting on Mikey's thigh, and he was alternating between texting Lindsey and moaning mournfully.

Mikey looked up from Frank's copy of _Good Omens_. "I did."

"Were they as good live as they were in that demo or -" Jamia cut herself off, her hands clutching the arms of the chair she was sitting in, sucking in a sharp breath. 

Ray was up off his chair in two seconds, hovering in front of Jamia with his hands outstretched, his hair bouncing anxiously. "Fuck. Frank. What do we do?"

Frank glanced up from his laptop. Even Mikey was leaning forward a little bit, watching Jamia over the top of the book. Gerard moaned a little as Mikey shifted, not opening his eyes.

"She's okay," Frank said.

Jamia let out a long breath and sat back. "Jeez," she said. "So, were they?"

Mikey stared at her over the top of his glasses for a long moment. "Yeah," he said finally, settling back himself. "Better, obviously, because of the onstage energy, but yeah, just as tight." 

"Cool, I thought they would be," Jamia said smugly.

"What the fuck was that?" Ray burst out. "I'm freaking out here! Why are you not freaking out?"

Frank shrugged again, while Jamia rolled her eyes. "She's been in pre-labor for, like, a week now," he said. "I freaked out the first couple of times -"

"The first _twelve_ times," Jamia said.

"But it's been happening, like, a lot," Frank talked over her. "We keep going to the doctor, but she's just not dilated."

"When's the due date, again?" Mikey asked.

"Last Tuesday," Jamia said flatly.

"They say you should eat spicy food," Ray suggested slowly, finally heading back to his seat. "Did you try that?"

"We ate nothing _but_ for three days," Frank said. "I got heartburn. The baby didn't even budge."

"What about going for walks?" Mikey said. "That's supposed to help. Like. Gravitationally."

"We walked for forty-five minutes yesterday," Jamia said, shifting her weight on the chair and wincing. "Nada."

"Did you try fucking?" Gerard mumbled against Mikey's thigh. 

"Gerard," Ray said reproachfully. 

"No, really." Gerard cleared his throat and pushed himself up on his elbows, squinting and fumbling for his sunglasses, resting askew on the top of his head. "I read something about that." 

"Jesus, Gerard," Frank said. "Of course we tried fucking."

Frank had read about that too - their doctor had actually recommended it to them the second time he'd brought Jamia in, anxiously trailing behind her, completely certain she was going to pop that baby out any second. Jamia had been up for it. They'd taken it slow, slow - she didn't want him too deep, so he just worked her shallow and gentle, his fingers against her clit, her hand over his, controlling the pressure. He'd rocked into her while she panted, her skin sliding under his fingers, sweaty and hot, until she finally came, whimpering and pressing her face against the pillow.

That had been two days ago.

Still no baby.

"Is she just gonna stay in there forever?" Mikey asked. 

"I hate you," Jamia said. 

"Shut the fuck up," Frank demanded. 

Mikey shrugged, grinning.

"I'm starving," Jamia said grimly. "Again." 

She started to shift forward, holding up a hand sharply when Ray started to scramble to his feet, saying, "I can get something -"

"Stop," she said. "I'm not an invalid. I can get myself a goddamn doughnut."

Frank got up, taking her hands and bracing himself. She got to her feet, stopping for a second, resting her head against his shoulder and catching her breath. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. She sighed, and pushed herself off, heading to the kitchen.

The other guys looked up at Frank, who shrugged. "She likes to do it herself."

"Is she okay, though?" Ray asked. 

"Seriously, she's been pregnant forever," Mikey said.

"Can you bring me a doughnut, too?" Gerard called after her, pushing his sunglasses more firmly onto his face.

"Frank?" Jamia called from the kitchen. 

"Yeah?" he yelled back.

There was a long pause.

"Frank," she called again. Her voice sounded a little strange. "Come here."

Frank's heart kicked up a notch, and he was out of breath by the time he got down the short hall to the kitchen. Jamia was standing there with her hands braced on the counter, the box of doughnuts Frank had picked up this morning open in front of her. The fridge was open, too, and the carton of milk - unopened - was lying on its side on the counter. "I was just -" she said breathlessly, unclenching one hand for a second to wave at the counter. "And I thought it was like all the other, you know -" She stopped, panting now, the color high in her cheeks. "I didn't want the milk to fall over," she said finally.

Frank was frozen in the doorway. Like, frozen, like you read about in books - he couldn't _move_ , he could only watch as she bit her lip and sucked in air through her nose. 

"Okay," he said finally, feeling very far away from the whole situation, but at least he was finally snapping into motion. "Okay, so let's -"

"Don't touch me for a second," Jamia said, her voice coming out all high and weird. "Just don't touch me. Hang on. Hang on." She clung grimly to the counter as Frank waited, his hands outstretched. "Okay," she said finally, shakily. "Okay, let's go."

She reached out one arm for Frank, and he slipped his arm around her, kicking the fridge door shut with his foot at the same time. She clung to him as they moved slowly through the kitchen, both of them clearly thinking that they could go from no baby to _baby_ if they jostled anything even a little bit.

In the maybe sixty seconds he'd been in the kitchen, Frank had completely forgotten that the guys were there. They all looked up as Frank and Jamia moved - carefully - into view. 

"Fuck," said Ray, jumping up.

"Fuck." Mikey closed his book.

"Fuck." Gerard jumped up too, then wobbled a little, wincing.

"Ray," said Frank, calmly, but his voice came out really fast for some reason. "There's a bag. In our room. It's blue."

"On it," Ray said, racing off. 

"Who drove here?" Frank said, still calmly, hitting the number for Dr. Kronman on his cell phone.

Jamia was standing very still beside him, breathing through her mouth. 

"Mikey," Gerard offered. "But it was my car."

Gerard had bought a mini three months ago. 

"Okay," Frank said. "Okay. Uh." He held up one hand, as he explained to the nurse what was going on. "Okay," he said again, to the group. "Let's go."

"It's fine," Jamia said tightly. "Don't panic. We have time. That was the first real contraction." She stopped, frowning. "I think."

"You think?" Frank asked, staring at her.

She waved one hand. "The pre-labor stuff has been a little more...intense. I don't know."

"Since when?" Frank demanded. 

"Last night, I think?" Jamia said. "Seriously, we're fine. It's fine."

"Right," Frank said, his voice coming out way, way calmer than he felt. "I can drive us. Right? I can drive. We have a car."

Mikey got up, edging carefully past the two of them. He grabbed their car keys from the hall table. "I'll drive your car," he said. "Ray will follow with Gerard, so we can leave your car there for you to get home."

"I can drive," Gerard protested.

Mikey looked at him. "I'm pretty sure you're still drunk from last night," he said.

Gerard frowned, but didn't argue.

Ray burst out of the bedroom with Frank's gym bag, an old empty purse of Jamia's, and a small make-up pouch. "These are all the blue bags I could find," he said wildly.

He thrust the make-up pouch at Jamia, and she looked at his face, and took it, solemnly. "Thank you," she said. "Can you just grab the one other blue bag? At the foot of the bed. It looks like a suitcase."

"Right! Right!" Ray darted off and came back with the rolling suitcase hefted into his hands. "Let's go, let's _go_."

"You're driving Gee," Mikey told Ray. 

"Right," Ray said, still eying Jamia anxiously. 

"Let's go."

***

They got out to the car with a maximum of fuss, Ray holding the door and waving Jamia through it like she was an airplane coming in for a landing, Gerard stumbling down the stairs, Mikey leaving the door to the apartment swinging open, so Frank had to throw his keys at Gerard, saying, "Lock the fuck up!" while trying to keep one hand near Jamia in case - he didn't know what.

"It's fine," Jamia kept saying. "I'm fine. We've got time. Seriously, Frank, stop touching me, I will break your arm." 

Their car was parked right out front and Mikey was holding the back passenger door open, waiting. Jamia started to get in, Frank hovering anxiously behind her, then stopped, one hand on the top of the door, one hand on the roof. Frank saw her knuckles go white as she said, under her breath, "Fuck oh fuck," and started panting. 

Oh God, another one. Frank couldn't stop reaching out for her, but he didn't dare touch her, just let his hands hover there on either side of her, behind her back, while Mikey watched them both. 

Finally, Jamia slowly released her hold on the door. "It's okay," she said, but her voice was rough and strange. "Let's go." She reached back for Frank, and let him help her into the backseat, slowly and carefully. She lowered herself in really, really gingerly, her jaw tight. 

Frank waited until she was settled, before shutting the door softly, and then _racing_ around to the other side, climbing into the backseat after her, as Mikey got in and started the car.

The ride over was incredibly nerve-wracking - Mikey drove steadily, not speeding, as Jamia held herself very still in the backseat, looking off through the windshield, not really focusing on anything, it looked like. Frank sat beside her, sideways, staring at her. 

"Stop staring," Jamia said, not looking at him. "Give me your hand." 

He did so, immediately, and she put it on her stomach firmly. "Calm down, kid," she said in a low voice. "We're here. It's all good. Take your fucking time." She took another breath and let it out, slow and steady.

Frank did the same thing.

Mikey had his iPod plugged in to their car, somehow, and when the song changed, Jamia said, sharply, "Skip it."

"She hates Lady Gaga," Frank explained. "The baby does, I mean, not J."

Mikey raised his eyebrows at Frank in the rearview mirror. 

"Put on the Beastie Boys," Jamia demanded.

"What song?" Mikey asked, scrolling without taking his eyes off the road.

"’Paul Revere’," Jamia said. "It's soothing. I don't know. Just do it."

Mikey did. 

They pulled smoothly into the emergency parking zone just as the song ended. "I love it when that happens," he commented, as Frank got out, leaving his door open as he ran around the car. Mikey got out, too, and it took both of them to help Jamia out. 

"Go park it," Frank said, guiding Jamia in, as Mikey trailed along behind him. 

Mikey shrugged, shutting Frank's door with his hip. "I know the parking guy here," he said, waving to the booth. "It's cool."

"How do you know _everyone_?" Frank asked, one hand on Jamia's back.

"He's Mikey," Jamia said over her shoulder. "Come on, let's _go_."

They got to the front counter and the nurse there looked up at them. "Okay," she said. "No need to explain what's going on _here_." 

"We called our doctor already," Frank said. "Kronman. She's meeting us here."

The nurse passed a clipboard over to Frank. "Fill this out and we'll see if we can get a room for you."

"Frank," said Jamia, hanging on to the counter.

"I know," he said. "I got this. Listen -" he said to the nurse.

"Make sure all the insurance information is filled out entirely," the nurse said, tapping the clipboard. "Otherwise it'll slow everything down."

" _Frank_ ," said Jamia again, urgently.

God, Frank fucking hated hospitals, and nurses, and forms. " _Listen_ ," he said again, desperately.

"Mother _fucker_ ," Jamia gasped, looking down. "My water just broke." She braced herself against the counter, her Chucks squeaking against the wet floor underneath her feet. 

"Orderly!" The nurse at the counter called stridently. "Get her upstairs, now!"

Frank put his arm around Jamia, looking at her in shock and admiration. "Did you do that on purpose?" he said. "That was awesome."  


"Shut up," Jamia said, as the orderly came over with a wheelchair.

"I've got that," Mikey said, relieving Frank of the clipboard. 

"But how can you -" Frank looked up from helping Jamia, watching as Mikey smoothly started filling in the form. "How do you know my social security number, dude?"

Mikey shrugged. "Gimme your wallet," he said. "I need your insurance info."

Frank tossed it to him, since apparently the only thing keeping Mikey from stealing his identity was Mikey's laziness. "Bring it up with the bag," he said, heading after the wheelchair and Jamia. "When Ray and Gee get here."

"On it," Mikey said, not even looking up. "Good luck," he yelled after them.

***

It was so strange seeing Jamia in a hospital gown, in a hospital bed. Frank was always the one in the bed, in the backless gown, feeling stupid and angry and weak.

Jamia wasn't any of those things. Even in the gown, she looked fucking beautiful.

"This is getting really old," she said to Frank. She reached out her hands, and he pulled her up to standing - she couldn't sit through the contractions. She paced around for a minute or so, then stopped, turning to hang on to the bar at the foot of the bed. 

He could see her tensing up. "Breathe," he told her. "Relax, and breathe through it."

"Fuck off," she panted, but she reached out and squeezed his hand for a second before she shut her eyes tight, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out in controlled pants. It was like she had been paying attention those last few Lamaze classes, instead of doing her best to get Frank hard behind her by rubbing up against him and muttering filthy promises under her breath about what she was going to do to him after. 

He stayed close beside her, talking her through it. His brain was moving a million miles a minute, and he wasn't even sure what he was saying, but Jamia panted through it, her head dropped down between her arms, so he just kept going. 

When the contraction eased up, she squeezed his hand again. "I'm so fucking tired," she said finally. "I need to just -" 

He put his arms around her, holding on, holding her up, as she sagged back against him. Her belly was under his hands, and she was so warm up against him. He pressed his face against her hair, damp with sweat. "It's okay," he said. "You're doing so great. It's going to be okay, and someday it's going to be over, and we'll -"

Her eyes went wide. "Fuck," she said tightly. "It's -"

"Again?" That was fast. That was really fucking fast. That was the closest one yet. He hung onto her, as it hit her too hard for her to grab onto anything else, and she grabbed onto both his hands, clinging to him really tightly as she cursed frantically under her breath.

"Breathe," he demanded. "Do it. Come on, J."

"Fuck," she panted, but she got it under control, sucking in air and letting it out slow, her whole body tense up against his, her knees locked, but shaking. 

Frank's heart was beating really fucking hard and the second the contraction was done, he eased her back to hang onto the bed while he yelled for the nurse, the doctor, whoever the fuck might be around to _be in charge_ of this baby situation here, Jesus Christ, what were they thinking, leaving them alone?

Things happened very, very quickly after that, or at least they seemed to, for Frank. There was a flurry of activity, people everywhere looking very professional and not as serious as he would like, but taking it all in stride as they took them to delivery.

There was Jamia's wide-eyed face, sweaty and tired, but determined, and her hand in his, tightly. 

There was a lot of yelling, it seemed like, and it wasn't like in a TV show, it wasn't as clear-cut and simple as that. Everything was happening so fucking fast all of a sudden, and Frank couldn't think or focus on anything other than Jamia. The nurses kept calling him "Daddy," which was weird as fuck, and telling him he was doing a good job, but all he was doing was hanging onto Jamia's hand, staying right up close to her. He kept talking, keeping up a running monologue of urging, mixed up with curses, he was pretty sure. 

She just kept nodding, her eyes squeezed shut, her face sweaty, as she breathed, and pushed when they told her to, and held onto him really fucking tight.

"You've got this," he kept saying. "You've got this, it's okay, breathe, like that, just like fucking that. You've got this."

She nodded again, and someone said, "Tell her to push, Daddy," and he guessed that was him, so he said it, he said, "Push, now," his voice coming out patient and calm, like this was ordinary, like this was something he _did_.

"Good," someone said, but all Frank could do was hold onto Jamia and watch her face, talking to her, urging her, as she did what he said, and worked so fucking hard, and looked so fucking goddamn tired. "Good, come on, now, one more, one more good one."

Apparently that was it. It was so fast, it made him dizzy, but it also felt like they had been doing this forever, had been here in this dingy hospital room for weeks. But that was it, that was the thing, because one second Jamia was hanging onto his hand really fucking hard and _yelling_ and then there was a flurry of activity from the doctors and nurses and then there was a baby crying, and - oh.

Oh fuck. 

Frank didn't really know a whole lot after that. Everything sped up and they had Jamia lying down, propped up a little bit, and a beaming nurse brought a bundle over and pressed it into Jamia's arms.

Frank stared down at the tiny, scrunched-up, red, wailing face of their seriously pissed-off daughter. "Holy shit," he breathed. 

Jamia's face was just as bewildered and astonished as he felt, as she stared down at the baby she was holding against her chest. "Oh my fucking God," she said. Her voice sounded shot, and weak. "Frank. What did we do?"

Frank reached out his hand to gently touch the baby's cheek. "We did this," he said softly. "Jamia. Jesus Christ, I love you so fucking much." He put his hand on the baby's head gently, staring down at her face, where she was gulping and sobbing. He looked at Jamia as she turned her face up to him, and she was just beaming, and he had to kiss her, had to. She kissed him back, messy and crazy, and then they both looked down at the baby again.

"What's her name?" one nurse asked, grinning at them.

"Emma," Frank said, not able to take his eyes off of their kid for more than a second. She'd quieted down some and was just curled up with her face pressed against Jamia's skin, where the shoulder of her hospital gown had slipped down. "Our daughter's name is Emma." 

He knew he sounded ridiculous, wound-up, proud, and he didn't care. Jamia grinned at him, touching Emma's cheek. "Emma," she said, real quiet, and Frank kissed the top of Jamia's head, where it was still damp with sweat.

***

Frank didn't know what time it was. He honestly wasn't even sure what _day_ it was. He pushed through the doors and headed to where they had told him the waiting room was. They probably hadn't waited. Frank was pretty sure it was the middle of the night.

Six heads shot straight up when he came in, and before he could even open his mouth, he was surrounded by the guys - all of them had stayed, and Lindsey had joined them, even - and his _mom_ was there, as was Jamia's mom. He vaguely remembered calling them during one of the longer breaks between the contractions, but he just - he hadn't even thought - 

"It's a girl," he said, and he suddenly felt like he was going to burst into motherfucking _tears_ or something. It was crazy, his chest and throat filling up just like when he was sick. "I mean - we knew that, but it _is_ , _she_ is, and -" He was talking to himself, because everyone had erupted into noise when he said it, talking over him and saying congratulations, and absolutely _everyone_ was saying, "You're a _father_ now, Frank, you're a _dad_."

Frank's mom was hugging him and crying, actual tears streaming down her face, taking her mascara with it. "Frankie," she said, squeezing him tight. "Mom," he said, hugging her back, feeling dazed and bewildered and just really, really overwhelmed.

"Where is that baby?" his mom said against his ear. "I want to hold her. Now." 

"Soon," he said, grinning helplessly. "Soon, Ma." 

Jamia's mom launched herself at him the second Frank's mom let go, giving him a swift, tight hug, then grabbing his arms. "Where is Jamia, Frank? They wouldn't let me in. They said I had to wait. Is she okay? They said she's okay, but I don't trust them."

"She's fine," he said quickly. "God, she's more than fine, she's goddamn amazing, she was _amazing_ in there."

Gerard slipped up beside Frank, waiting until Jamia's mom gave him a kiss on the cheek and let go of him. "Frankie," he said, twisting his hands together and looking almost shy. "I -" He shook his head, his eyes bright, and flung himself at Frank, hugging him long and tight, his tangled hair in Frank's face. "You have a _daughter_ ," he said, muffled against Frank's chest. "You did it. You guys _did_ it." 

"Jamia," Frank said against Gerard's head. "Jamia did it. She was so -" He had to stop talking, because his throat filled up again.

Gerard let Frank go and stepped back a little, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. He was smiling like a lunatic, and Frank was pretty sure he was smiling back just the same way. Lindsey came up and gave Frank a hug. "Congratulations," she said softly, and stepped back, slipping her hand into Gerard's, who hung on tightly.

"Okay." Frank cleared his throat, trying to quickly wipe at his eyes without making it obvious. "I can take you to her -" Everyone in the room took a step forward, poised. Frank held his hands up. "Two at a time," he said quickly. "Sorry. Sorry. Hospital rules, and J's pretty beat right now." He looked around. "Just moms tonight, okay? She definitely wants to see the rest of you tomorrow."

Both his mom and Jamia's mom hoisted their purses up over their shoulders firmly. 

Ray was gathering all of the stuff that was strewn all over the waiting room - books and sketchbooks and a lot of snack wrappers - and shoving it into a bag. "Here," he said, pushing it into Gerard's arms. "You guys and Mikey go bring your car around, okay?"

Gerard gave Frank another moist smile as he went by, clutching the bag against his chest. Mikey gave him a hug and a high-five. "Good job, dude." Frank grinned. "Thanks, Mikey."

Ray came up to Frank, grinning widely. He wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling his head down against Ray's shoulder and rubbing the back of his head, his voice breaking as he said, "A _dad_ , Frankie."

"So fuckin' weird," Frank muttered against Ray's shoulder. God. He was someone’s _father_.

Ray let him go, backing off from the impatient looks of the two moms. "Okay," Frank said, clapping his hands together like - well, like his _dad_ did. "You ready to go meet your granddaughter?" 

" _Oh_." Both of their moms said it at the same time, their faces practically melting with happiness. 

Frank grinned widely and turned around, a new grandmother on either side of him, and guided them back towards his family.

***

Frank flung the apartment door open, leaving it ajar and spinning back around. "Come on in," he called back over his shoulder at Gerard, who was hovering there, looking confused. "We'll be out in a sec, there's a literal shitstorm going on in here."

"Uh."

Frank heard the door close, so he assumed Gerard had come in, and he just headed right back to Emma's room, where Jamia was staring down at the changing table, one hand anchored on Emma's stomach, her other hand holding a clean diaper. She looked up at Frank. "We're gonna need more wipes," she said. "Maybe another _box_ of them, Jesus Christ. How can someone so tiny have contained this much poop?" she demanded at Emma, who just gurgled contentedly and waved her tiny, adorable feet, sticking one directly into the dirty diaper.

Jamia groaned and Frank laughed. 

Jamia's head shot up, and she beamed victoriously. "Ha!" she said, tossing the clean diaper at him. "That means you're on."

"Fuck you," Frank said, then shot a guilty glance at Emma. "Sorry, kid. You didn't hear that."

Jamia left him to it, heading out while Frank started working on cleaning up the really epic mess that had come out of this kid's butt. "Seriously," he said, staring down at her. "How do you do this? How?"

He managed to grab her newly-cleaned foot before she could stick it in poop again. He got her cleaned up and into the new diaper pretty quickly - the first couple of days home had been _rough_ , but they were a few weeks in and it got - well, not easier, but they got more used to it, at least. 

He snapped her into a onesie, tossing the old one onto the top of the pile of Emma-laundry that seemed to never diminish, no matter how many loads they did. He looked down at her, where she was now peacefully flailing her limbs, totally happy, which of course she was, she had pooped everything out and was ready for action. "You're lucky you're so cute," he told her sternly. 

She ignored him, waving her hands some more, then giving an actual full-body start when one of her hands hoved into her field of vision. He cracked up and scooped her up off the table. "C'mon," he said. "Let's go see Gee."

She felt, still, ridiculously tiny in his arms. She put off heat like a furnace, and she was a head-sweater, waking up with the ridiculous amount of hair she'd been born with damp and sticking up whenever she napped. She felt completely, one hundred percent right in his arms, and he loved her with every piece of his heart.

"Hey," Gerard said from the couch. "Hey, she's -"

"Here," Frank said, pushing Emma her into Gerard's arms. "Hold her neck, don't let her squirm out of your hands, and watch out, she was a little pukey today."

Gerard's mouth was open, his eyes wide, and he held her like she was a ticking bomb. "Uh," he said, sounding a little desperate. "Uh, listen, I don't think I'm -"

"I'm getting us beers," Frank said, heading to the kitchen. "We haven't seen anyone except our moms since, like, last Wednesday. You're our social life, so suck it up."

He ran into Jamia, coming up from the basement with a pile of clean baby clothes in her arms. "Gee's got the kid," he said, scooping up three beers from the fridge.

"Oh, this I gotta see," Jamia said, disappearing to the living room.

Frank stuffed a bottle opener in his pocket and headed back. "Nope, she's all yours," he heard Jamia say. "I'm off for the night."

Frank grinned as he came back in. "She's been fed, and changed, and judging from her face," he studied Emma, where Gerard was clutching her awkwardly in his lap. "She's going to be out like a light in, like, five minutes." 

Emma was breathing heavily, her eyes opening and closing slowly as she stared up at Gerard, a bubble of spit in her mouth as she breathed. Gerard was staring down at her intently, his mouth curved into a ridiculous grin. "She's a TARDIS," he said softly. 

Frank had put her in the onesie Gerard had given them, that had the Doctor's phone booth on the front and back. He grinned - probably the same stupid grin Gerard was wearing - and popped the tops off the three beers. "She totally is," he said. 

"Such nerds," Jamia said, reaching for her beer. "The both of you." 

Gerard nodded solemnly and sat back very carefully and slowly. "She's so warm," he said softly. "Look at her breathe." He looked up at them, and his eyes were shiny. "You _guys_ ," he said softly, a catch in his voice.

Frank grinned harder. He couldn't stop. He was more tired than he'd ever been in his life, but - "This kid," he said, like that explained everything.

"This kid," Gerard echoed, staring back down at her. "Hey, Emma," he said quietly. "I'm going to show you Doctor Who real soon, okay?"

Emma took a really deep breath and let it out with a gurgle, and Gerard grinned. "That means she can't wait. I bet she likes Nine the best."

"Here," said Frank, setting his beer down and getting up. "Hand her over - I'm going to put her to bed." 

She woke up a little when he scooped her up, staring up at him with her huge brown eyes as he settled her in the curve of his arm. "Keep an eye on Jamia," he said to Gerard in a stage whisper. "After nine months without a drink, she's got no tolerance. It's hysterical."

"Shut the fuck up," Jamia said, taking a sip of her beer with a satisfied sound. "Sorry," she added guiltily, glancing up at the baby.

Frank brought Emma into their bedroom - she was sleeping in a bassinet on Frank's side of the bed, so Frank could be the one to get up to pick her up when she woke up angry and hungry, and bring her over to Jamia. It worked out better that way - she could breastfeed without having to get up, and they both got more sleep in the end. 

He put Emma down on the bed, straightening her onesie and leaning down to press a kiss against her belly. He got her into the baby sleeper thing that kept her warm at night - it had arms but no legs, just a sort of wide sack at the bottom and she looked like a shopping bag full of baby when she was in it. Emma protested when he fed her hands through the sleeves, whimpering, but she settled down and was pretty much out by the time he got her all snapped inside. 

He picked her up carefully, settling her into the bassinet on her back. She sighed really loudly, and then snorted in her sleep, and Frank literally had to press his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. Her hands were in two tiny fists up by her head, her mouth open as she breathed. He watched her for a minute, caught up - again - in the fact that she motherfucking existed, that she was _theirs_. He put a hand on her velvety head lightly, and then leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Night, munchkin," he said, real softly, and backed out the door after flipping on the baby monitor, the glow of the nightlight letting him see her tiny chest moving up and down as she breathed.

He came back to the living room as Jamia was saying, "I pumped earlier, so Frank gets to be the one to give her a bottle in a few hours, but seriously, look at these puppies, it's _insane_." 

He paused in the doorway, and both he and Gerard looked, admiringly, as she tugged on her neckline. Her tits - which had already been pretty goddamn magnificent - were something else entirely now. They were _huge_ , and sensitive, and completely out of bounds, as Frank had been reminded several times in the past two weeks. He settled for looking at her glorious cleavage. 

Gerard was doing the same. "That's awesome," he said solemnly. "They're amazing."

"I know." Jamia tugged her shirt back into place. "I don't even know what to do with them. I keep getting distracted by my own cleavage."

Frank came in and sat down next to Gerard, trying very hard to make eye contact with Jamia. Her nipples were completely hard against the fabric of her t-shirt, just from the shift of cloth against them, and as she took a long sip of her beer, Frank quickly let his eyes drop down, admiring them from, sadly, afar.

"Seriously," he said, finally, when she put the beer down. "I miss those."

She grinned at him, her headband was slightly askew. Her hair was below her shoulders now, and needed to be washed, so it stood out at funny angles. "Hands off," she said warningly.

"I know, I know." He held up his hands, grinning just a little. She was tipsy already, halfway through her only beer of the night. 

"Cheap date," he said out of the side of his mouth to Gerard.

Gerard giggled into his own beer, and Jamia threw a bottle cap at Frank. "Fuck you," she said, but she looked happy. Exhausted, dirty, but happy, her legs curled up under her, eyes bright. 

"You guys are _parents_ ," Gerard said wonderingly. "Like. You're a _dad_." He pointed at Frank.

"It's so fucking weird, right?" It was, Frank knew, but - it didn't seem that weird, not really. This, right here - Gerard on the couch, Lindsey swinging by later, Emma's quiet sleeping snuffles coming through on the monitor, even the literal shitstorm from earlier - somehow, it felt like this was the way it had always been supposed to be. He couldn't remember not having this space in his heart for Emma before. He couldn't imagine Jamia not being Emma's mom. And he felt, with every fiber of his being, like this - being a dad, being _Emma's dad_ \- was just exactly, perfectly, precisely what he'd lived his entire life for.

He just shrugged a little, though, as Gerard beamed at both of them. "Drink up," he said, reaching for his own beer.

"To you guys," Gerard said, raising his nearly-empty bottle in a toast.

Frank laughed, but Jamia just smiled wide, and lifted her own bottle. "To us," she said. 

Frank raised his own bottle, leaning to clink first Gerard's, then Jamia's. "To us," he said, and they all drank. 

"Family," said Gerard softly, to himself, almost.

"Are you going to cry, again?" Jamia said. "Throw some water on him or something, Frank, he needs to be hosed down."

"Shut up." Gerard wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "You don't know."

"You're such a pussy," Jamia said fondly. 

Gerard nodded. "Yup."

Frank reached out and grabbed Jamia's hand, squeezing it. "Leave him alone," he ordered. "Sometimes a little emotion is called for, okay?"

"Okay, motherfucker," Jamia said, squeezing back tightly and giving him a grin. "Okay."

the end

**Bonus Materials**

Fanart:

[Three slightly spoilery pieces](http://brooklinegirl.livejournal.com/864034.html) by lessthan3is2 

**Fanmixes:**

[The Way I Like You Best](http://brooklinegirl.livejournal.com/862642.html) by morganya

[These Are the Days ](http://brooklinegirl.livejournal.com/863055.html) by exoticway


End file.
